


Trinity

by forestgreen



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abuse, Bestiality, Dark, Emotional Manipulation, Humiliation, M/M, Mind Games, Mindfuck, Multi, Sado-Masochism, dub-con, non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-11
Updated: 2010-12-11
Packaged: 2017-10-13 15:10:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 39,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/138702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forestgreen/pseuds/forestgreen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Never con a con-man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trinity

**Author's Note:**

> This story was written in 2007 before the release of the seventh Harry Potter book; it follows Harry Potter canon until "Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince". It was written as a gift for Anne Phoenix.

"Finally, Mr. Potter, we meet again," Lord Voldemort said. "I've been looking forward to this day."

The half moon shone in the cloudless sky, illuminating Potter's prone form. The Dark Lord walked closer to the boy, who was sprawled on the ground in the centre of his circle of Death Eaters. Bellatrix stood next to Potter, her wand aimed at the boy.

"Go to hell!" Potter spat, meeting Lord Voldemort's eyes defiantly.

"Watch how you speak to the Dark Lord, boy!" Bellatrix pushed the heel of her right boot into Potter's hand until the dry crack of breaking bones was heard.

The boy didn't even whimper.

It wouldn't do. " _Crucio_!" Lord Voldemort said, rejoicing in the earth-shattering, piercing screams the curse tore from the boy. An echo of pain touched the back of his mind, not his, but still there, getting stronger as time passed. Voldemort lifted the curse, surprised. The pain stopped.

He lowered his wand, his hand clenching the wood with such force that he was afraid it would break. He could not let go, though. It was the only thing stopping his fingers from trembling.

"Good job, Bella, my dear," Lord Voldemort said, tearing his eyes from the boy to look at Bellatrix. "You will be rewarded beyond your dreams."

"Thank you, my Lord. It was my pleasure to serve you," she answered, eyes shining with zeal. "Your plan was brilliant, my Lord. One small clue about the whereabouts of Hufflepuff's Cup, and the boy fell right into our trap. As if a filthy Mudblood-lover like him would deserve such a prized heirloom of the Magical world." She kicked Potter's face. "I bet you regret your presumption now, boy."

Potter turned his head to look at Bellatrix and bared his teeth at her, his bloodied lips curving with hatred. "The only thing I regret is not having cursed you when I had the opportunity," he snarled.

" _Cruc—_!"

" _Expelliarmus_!" Voldemort summoned Bellatrix's wand before she could finish the curse. "How dare you curse the boy without my permission? He is not to be touched unless I order it!" He looked at his Death Eaters, one at a time, until all of them bowed their head in agreement. "He is mine! I decide who punishes him and who doesn't. Any one of you touches but one of his hairs without my say-so and it will be the last thing you do."

"I apologise, my Lord," Bella said, falling on her knees next to the boy. "Please forgive my presumption."

Potter chortled. "By Merlin, what a pathetic bunch you are. So proud of the purity of your blood and cowering in fear in front of a hal—"

" _Incendio_!" The Dark Lord's curse interrupted Potter's words, setting the boy's body on fire.

Bellatrix jumped aside with a small scream, but it was nothing to the painful sounds coming from Potter. The stench of burning flesh filled Voldemort's nostrils and he breathed in deeper, enjoying it. Sweat drops ran down the Dark Lord's temples and the back of his neck as the fire warmed the chilly night.

It took Lord Voldemort a moment to realise that the heat was coming from inside him. He stopped the curse and healed the boy with a flick of his wand. His heart hammered wildly as he studied Potter with wide, fearful eyes.

"No. You don't deserve to be cursed, Potter," Lord Voldemort hurried to say, lest his followers realised that he was being too easy on the boy, not because he wanted to be, but because he had to. "Curses are for wizards. You are a disgrace to our kind. You haven't earned the right to be punished with magic. What do you think, Bella, my dear? You did capture him, and I promised you a reward. Could you come up with a suitable punishment for our Mudblood-lover, one that does not involve curses but causes ten times as much pain?"

"Oh, yes, my Lord." Bellatrix's eyes darkened with pleasure. She looked at Potter and licked her lips. "Master, I know I don't deserve your kindness, but please allow Rodolphus to join me," she asked as he knew she would. The Lestranges' tastes were well known among the Death Eaters. He might not be able to curse the boy, but there were other ways to make him suffer.

"Of course, my dear," he told her. Lord Voldemort nodded to Rodolphus, who immediately left the circle to join his wife at the centre. Lestrange pulled his wand out and looked at the Dark Lord, waiting.

Lord Voldemort conjured wingback chairs for every Death Eater and a throne for himself. He levitated Bellatrix's wand back to her before sitting down. "Enjoy the show, my friends," he said to his followers, indicating with his hand they should sit down as well. He looked at Rodolphus and signalled him to start.

Lestrange didn't wait. He aimed his wand at Potter, and the last remains of the boy's scorched clothes disappeared. He lifted Potter's arms above the boy's head, forcing Potter's body up, until his toes barely touched the ground. Invisible restraints pulled the boy's legs apart, exposing the puckered hole hidden between the cleft of his arse.

Potter didn't protest, but his cheeks and chest flushed deep red with embarrassment, and his breath hitched every time the magical bonds jerked his legs farther apart. When the Dark Lord looked at him Potter averted his eyes.

Bellatrix walked to the boy's front, while Rodolphus went to his back. Each of them took a side of Potter's neck, licking it with broad tongues. Potter tried to twist his head away, but there was no escape. Rodolphus yanked his head back at a painful angle, forcing him to remain still. He bit down on Potter's neck at the same time Bellatrix did. Potter remained stubbornly quiet, even as his brow creased and sweat started to run down his face.

Bellatrix's fingers twisted one of Potter's nipples viciously, and the boy started, grinding himself into her in a useless effort to reduce the pain. Her nails scraped across his torso, leaving five red trails behind. Potter hissed sharply, unable to help himself. It was all Rodolphus had been waiting for. A huge ball-gag materialised in Potter's mouth, stretching his lips lewdly. Potter's frantic breaths as he tried not to choke filled the night.

Bellatrix laughed. Her hand closed around Potter's limp cock and with experienced strokes brought him to hardness. She knew her arts well. Potter never stood a chance, but Voldemort knew that it wouldn't stop him from feeling like a dirty whore once it was over.

Lord Voldemort's eyes flickered to Potter's forehead. He could almost taste the temptation to sink into those eyes, that mind, pry it open and unveil all of its secrets. The boy looked at him, his green eyes wide with a mix of fear and hatred, almost daring him to do it. The Dark Lord looked away first, focusing on Rodolphus.

Lestrange bit his way down Potter's back, one inch at a time, until the boy's spine became one single, swollen bruise that stretched from nape to tailbone. Potter writhed between the two Lestranges as if his body could not decide which was worse: Rodolphus' merciless teeth or Bellatrix's hands. The decision was taken from him when finally Rodolphus reached the boy's arse cheeks and spread them. Potter tried desperately to squirm away, but the bonds didn't allow it. He succeeded only in contracting his buttocks frantically, making the scene all the more exciting.

Rodolphus' finger breached him and despite the gag the delightful, frightful noises the boy was making reached Voldemort's keen ears. Potter's nostrils opened and closed rapidly as he tried to get enough air in while spit dribbled from the corner of his mouth down his face and neck. It was one of the most arousing sights Voldemort had ever seen.

"My Lord," Rodolphus said, looking at him from where he stood with one finger still within Potter's arse. "Maybe you should check if the boy is a virgin. He's unbelievably tight." Bellatrix stopped her movements, too, watching Potter with hungry eyes.

Lord Voldemort leaned forward, a greedy expression distorting his face. Surely Potter couldn't have been so naïve as to become active in the war without getting rid of his virginity first. Then again, Dumbledore had probably never bothered to explain to him how many dark rituals involved forcefully claiming an enemy's virginity.

The Dark Lord pointed his wand at Potter and cast the required spell. Potter's body was outlined with a white halo of light. Lord Voldemort's dark, loud laugh broke the eerie silence.

"My Lord, pardon my intrusion, but I have an idea about how to use this to further your goals," one of his Death Eaters said, breaking away from the circle and coming closer to him.

"Severus, my friend, what is your suggestion?" the Dark Lord asked, immediately recognising Snape's voice.

"I've been experimenting with an obscure potion whose main ingredient is an enemy's virgin blood. It will allow you to increase your magical power every time you drink it. If we keep the boy a virgin forever and bleed him every day, your power will be limitless," Severus said.

"An interesting suggestion, but I already know what I want to do with Potter. I have other enemies though, whose children can be used to brew that potion. Don't worry, Severus, I will get you your potion ingredients." The Dark Lord dismissed Snape's idea. He needed to be able to control Potter first. He wouldn't lose this opportunity.

"Bella, my dear, you will have to wait a little longer for your reward. Stand aside," he told her, walking towards the boy.

At a gesture of his hand both Lestranges and Snape went back to their places in the circle. Voldemort stood in front of Potter, relishing the mounting fear in the boy's eyes. He cast a privacy spell around them and waited for the shadow-like dome to materialise.

"My dear Harry," the Dark Lord said mockingly, caressing the boy's face with his wand. "I'm so very pleased to know that you have waited for me to be your first. This might hurt a great deal, but I wouldn't know for sure. It has never been done to me." He walked around the boy, placing himself at his back and watched amused as Potter twisted his neck painfully, trying to see where he had gone.

He was already hard from watching the Lestranges play with the boy, the man actually, he noticed, now that he had the opportunity to study Potter more closely. He had grown up quite well since the last time the Dark Lord had seen him.

Lord Voldemort stroked his own cock left-handed, enjoying the odd rhythm, so different from the one he usually picked for himself when using his right hand. He pointed his wand at his groin and started to chant. Black smoke engulfed his cock, producing a tingling sensation. When his pre-come started to leak it was black too.

He placed the tip of his wand at Potter's entrance, breaching it just a tiny bit. Potter jumped but could not move away. Slowly, Voldemort let his wand penetrate further, until the small quiver of Potter's thighs and the sudden twitch of his cock told him that he had reached his prostate. He moved his hand faster then, in and out, timing every thrust with the ritual words. Soon, dark smoke, ripe with magic, started to pour out of Potter's hole, spiralling down his legs, to his ankles, and up his torso and arms to his neck and wrists. The smoke whirled faster and faster, drawing power from Potter and himself, until the night air reeked of Dark Magic.

Lord Voldemort took his wand out of Potter then, loving the way the boy trembled. He placed it on Potter's nape and with his other hand guided his cock into Potter, ramming into him brutally. The boy's muffled screams fed the magic even further as Voldemort pounded into him ruthlessly. He kept on chanting, despite it being almost impossible to remember the words when Potter's arse was so delightfully tight around him. It was pure torture not to come. The tiny part of his mind that was not keeping track of the ritual, nor lost in the pleasure almost overwhelming him, promised that he would make Potter pay for making this so much more difficult than it should have been.

He chanted the final words just when he thought he could not last one more instant and came, emptying himself within Potter. The magic spilled out of him and into the boy, twisting itself around Potter's core, binding him. The smoke surged out of Voldemort's cock and poured out of Potter's opening. It broke into five streams that twirled around Potter's body. Two of them circled Potter's wrists, while two others surrounded his ankles and the final one his neck. They twisted around Potter's skin, burning themselves into it, cutting deeper and deeper.

Voldemort felt them too, an echo of pain around his own wrists and ankles and around his neck, like invisible needles pricking into his skin.

As suddenly as it had come, the sensation disappeared. Slowly Lord Voldemort lowered his wand and pulled out of the boy, who hung unconscious from his bonds. Black diamond-patterned snakes coiled around Potter's neck, wrists, and ankles. The dark ink of the tattoos shimmered with magic in the moonlight as the snakes moved slowly, settling into the skin.

Almost afraid, the Dark Lord drew back the sleeves of his own robes and was relieved to find no tattoos marring his wrists, even if he could sense distantly the lazy movements of Potter's snakes reflected there.

He touched the back of Potter's neck with one finger. The snake lifted its head and regarded him out of its slit eyes. " _Master,_ " it hissed slowly, as if testing the truth of the statement. " _How may we serve you?_ "

" _You will obey my every command. Mine and no one else's,_ " Lord Voldemort told the snake. It hissed its agreement before letting its head fall and closing its eyes.

The Dark Lord dispelled the privacy dome, pleased to see that all his Death Eaters had remained in their places, waiting for him to finish. He walked back to his throne and sat down.

"My dear Bella, I believe that the boy is a bit worse for wear at the moment, but I'm sure you will be able to have your amusement regardless."

She laughed, approaching Potter. Bellatrix knelt behind Potter's legs and coated her fingers in the come and blood leaking down from the boy's hole. She raised them to her lips and licked them clean, all the while looking at the Dark Lord. He smiled at her, pleased. She did it again, and again, until nothing remained of his come, and Potter's thighs glistened with Bellatrix's spit. Then she spread the boy's arse cheeks with her hands and licked him clean.

Rodolphus watched her keenly. Once she was done, he grabbed her hair, pulled her up, and kissed her breathless. Even from the distance Lord Voldemort could see his tongue as it claimed her mouth, chasing after the last remains of his come and Potter's blood. Finally they broke apart, panting.

Bellatrix drew her wand out and pointed it at Potter, who had not regained consciousness yet.

"Bella," the Dark Lord said in a rough voice. He waited for her to look at him. Her lips were swollen from the kiss. "You are free to play as you will, but make it last. And make sure not to leave any scars that can't be healed by magic. The boy is mine and mine will be the only marks he bears."

Bellatrix nodded, her eyes unreadable. " _Ennervate_!" she said, and Potter began to stir.

And whether her teeth were that much sharper, her fingers that much crueller, and her whip more brutal than initially intended, Lord Voldemort couldn't tell. Nor did he care. It lasted until sunrise, past whatever endurance Potter could have. Severus was called to administer his most potent healing and restorative potions at four different times during the night. By the time they were done, Potter's body was an unrecognisable lump on the ground, covered in blood and come.

All the Death Eaters disapparated, except Severus, whom the Dark Lord ordered to stay behind.

"Heal him," Voldemort ordered Snape.

Severus grunted in annoyance. "With all due respect, my Lord, I'm not a Healer," he said.

"You are a Potions Master. _My_ Potions Master. I would say that is much more than a Healer. Or am I mistaken?"

Severus huffed. "As you wish, but I don't see why I have to waste perfectly good potion ingredients on healing the brat. Why not just leave him to die?"

"Because!" the Dark Lord snapped. He remembered the ghost of the Cruciatus and the heat of the Incendio-Curse and his heart skipped a beat. The boy could not die. "You are not here to question me, but to do as I say. I'll be lenient with you, because you've proved your faithfulness to me as no one else ever has. Take this as a warning, though. My reasons are my own and it's not your place to question them. Now, gather what you need and heal the boy!"

"Of course, my Lord. I apologise," Severus hurried to placate him. "It's just that after killing Dumbledore my major pleasure was the knowledge that I could leave Hogwarts and would never have to deal with that wretched boy again. I'm sure that you have good reasons to keep him alive. Forgive my forwardness, please."

"It's forgiven, but see that it doesn't happen again. How long do you think the boy will need to be back to his old annoying self once more?" Voldemort asked.

"After tonight I don't believe he will be quite the same ever again," Severus said, eyes lost in thought, probably remembering the delightful screams the boy had given after the ball-gag had finally been removed.

"You underestimate him, Severus. He's more resilient than you think." Lord Voldemort _knew_ what the boy was made of. Literally. It would take more than that to break him. Much more.

"Maybe," Severus murmured. His eyes darkened with something unreadable. Desire perhaps? The Dark Lord promised himself to find out. If Severus wanted to play with Potter he saw no reason to deny him. He had killed Dumbledore; no reward would be too great.

"I will get what I need to heal the boy," Severus said. The Dark Lord waved his hand, indicating that he should do so, and Severus left.

The house-elves took Potter to a room in the Malfoy Manor where courtesans had traditionally been kept. Lord Voldemort had chosen and warded it himself. He liked the irony of it. After all, a whore was all Potter would ever be under his reign.

He walked over to Potter's bed, where the boy lay still unconscious. His long fingers traced over Potter's face, following the path the tears had cleaned on his dirty skin. The boy smelt of blood and come and pain. The Dark Lord moved his hand further down, until he reached the boy's throat. He closed his fingers over Potter's windpipe and squeezed, feeling the snake tattoo as it moved under his hand. It took only a couple of seconds before his hand froze without his willing it, every survival instinct he ever had screaming at him to stop.

He released Potter's neck with a growl. "I might not be able to kill you," he whispered, "but I will make sure that you crave death. Living will be your curse, and it will last forever." He left the room without looking back.

* * *

Over the next weeks Harry learned things about himself that he'd never wished to know. He was not given to all Death Eaters, despite the Dark Lord threatening to do so on more than one occasion. At first he had been too consumed by fear and pain to notice, but after a while he started to realise that only Snape and the Lestranges were allowed to hurt him, always under the Dark Lord's watchful eye. And only Snape had permission to use Harry without supervision.

They almost never used magic, not even the Dark Lord, but the few times it did happen, Harry learned to crave the brutal, consuming, but at least impersonal pain of the Cruciatus. It was better than being forced to kneel at the Dark Lord's feet and to swallow his cock as Rodolphus or Snape or, worse yet, Bellatrix took him from behind. Better than the sharp pain of Bellatrix's whips and the burning desire that Snape's potions awakened in him.

Harry learned to recognise the warm sensation that aphrodisiacs left in his blood whenever Snape forced him to drink them. He hated those, too, but not as much as he hated the rare times they tore orgasm after orgasm out of him with nothing but their hands and mouths and cocks and Bellatrix's cunt. Harry wanted to believe that magic was involved too, even if it was subtler than a potion. Yet, he couldn't quite silence the voice in his head, telling him that maybe some sick, twisted part in him did enjoy it. Why else would he come?

The first weeks he had spent hours crying and sobbing in his bed after they left, until it felt as if he had no more tears to shed, only to be proven wrong the next day, over and over. More than anything he hated the lack of control over his body, the fact that it betrayed him, always, no matter how hard he tried to force himself not to react.

Not for the first time he was thankful for Hermione's passion for reading obscure texts when everybody else thought them useless. He still remembered when she had forced Ron and him to sit down and had lectured them both on rape and Stockholm syndrome and other kinds of psychological disorders that being held prisoner could bring, according to Muggles. It had seemed all so ridiculous then. Ron had looked as if he wanted to puke. Harry had laughed it off, telling her that he wouldn't make it past the first night. Voldemort would kill him first. He had been wrong, of course. But Hermione had been mistaken too.

None of her books had prepared him enough. Reality was a thousand times worse. Nonetheless, Harry promised himself that he wouldn't let them break him. It was the least he could do. He owed it to Hermione and to Ron. He knew that they were doing all in their power to free him. He couldn't give up.

That particular night Harry was tied on the bed in his room, face down, spread-eagled, wrists and ankles bound to each bed post with a thick rope that bruised his skin. Snape loomed over him, marking his body with hands and teeth. He laughed whenever Harry pulled at his restraints, trying to get away, to no avail.

Snape was always particularly careful to place his bindings exactly over the snakes tattooed on Harry's skin, so that even long after the rope was gone, every time the snakes moved Harry's skin flared with pain. The marks were not permanent, but they lasted long enough that by the time the Dark Lord granted Snape permission to use him again, the last fading remains were still there.

Snape was straddling the back of Harry's thighs. His hard cock was cradled in the crevice of Harry's arse. Every time Harry moved, its blunt tip brushed against Harry's opening, a silent threat of things yet to come. In his hand Snape held a jar with a yellow potion whose name Harry didn't know. He didn't want to know it either.

"How do you break through blood wards, Potter?" Snape asked him. "It can't be such a difficult question for the great Boy Who Lived. After all, you're supposed to be the salvation of the wizarding world," Snape mocked him and let a drop of the yellow liquid fall on his back.

Harry screamed and bucked despite his best efforts to stay still. Snape's cock jabbed against his arse harder, once, twice, before Harry managed to stop moving.

'It's not real. It's not real,' Harry repeated to himself, eyes screwed shut. He knew that were he to look his skin would be unmarred, but the knowledge didn't lessen the pain as the acid burned through to his bones and beyond invisibly. It didn't make the smell of burned skin any less nauseating either.

"I asked you a question," Snape said. "Don't make me repeat myself."

"I don't know, you fucking bastard! I don't know!" Harry snarled, muscles tensing in anticipation of the pain.

"Don't worry, Potter. We'll get to the fucking part yet. I just didn't know you were that eager," Snape sneered, close to his ear. Harry hated the feeling of gratitude that washed over him when the next drop didn't fall.

"This is how I should have taught you from the very first day," Snape said. "Maybe then you would have retained something in your useless brain instead of making me waste my time. _Legilimens_!"

Harry fought the intrusion, trying to keep his mind empty, to form walls around his core, but Snape razed them as if they were made of paper.

Harry was tied to the bed, this time face up. The Dark Lord was riding his face, fucking his mouth. Harry swallowed around Voldemort's cock, sucking hard, his tongue flicking at the underside along the vein pulsing there. Voldemort moaned in pleasure, his thrusts becoming faster and deeper, his balls hitting Harry's chin with every thrust. Harry choked around his cock, but still he slid his head back and forth as best he could, trying to please the other man so that it would end faster, knowing that it was the only way he had to avoid further pain.

"No!" Harry screamed, and the memory ended as reality came crashing down on him. Snape's lascivious laughter thrummed in Harry's ears. He blushed in anger and shame.

"Well, well, what a little cock-sucker you have turned out to be. It's good to know that your mouth is at least good for something. I will partake of your skills later and I expect the same enthusiasm you showed our Lord. You wouldn't like the consequences of disobedience," Snape said. "Hmm, six minutes. You know what that means."

"Please, no, please," Harry begged, hating the way his body trembled, and how his voice hitched.

"Hush now," Snape said. His hand ran down Harry's back in a calming gesture. "It's not so bad. Last time it was nine and you survived it, didn't you?"

"Please, Professor, please," Harry continued pleading, even though he knew it was useless.

Snape ignored him, as he always did. He moved down Harry's thighs, until he was sitting on the back of Harry's knees. With one hand he spread Harry's cheeks apart while the other held Harry's hips steady through their almost convulsive trembling. The jar with the yellow potion levitated towards Harry's entrance and tipped itself. The drops fell one after the other, six times. Harry screamed, earth-shattering, piercing wails that left his vocal cords bleeding, until he had no voice left to scream with.

Harry came back to himself, feeling almost numb with the lack of pain. Snape lay next to him on the bed, his head supported by one arm. His other hand caressed Harry's back soothingly. "You did well," Snape said in a soft voice, so different from his usual cutting tone that Harry wanted to cry and curl into him. He was thankful that the rope didn't let him.

Harry tried to speak but his voice failed. Snape's hand froze on Harry's back. He stood up and summoned his wand. With a flick of it the bindings holding Harry to the bed softened and tightened again, while Harry was flipped on his back. Harry could see now the candles floating around the room and the jar hovering close to his cock. He couldn't help the whimper of fear that escaped him. His balls shrank in on themselves, almost crawling into his body. Snape chuckled cruelly, but vanished the jar back to wherever it had come from.

Snape summoned another vial. He cradled Harry's nape in one hand, lifting his head and placing the vial on his lips. "Drink," he ordered.

Harry did, knowing that resistance would only make things worse. He relaxed into Snape's hand when he recognised the honeyed taste of the potion. It soothed and healed his battered vocal cords, taking away with it the last remains of pain in his body.

"That's better," Snape said. "It'd be a pity if I couldn't hear you beg because you didn't have a voice with which to do it. Now drink this." A new vial materialised in Snape's hand, this one made out of glass. Harry shuddered when he recognised the bluish potion, but opened his lips obediently and swallowed.

It didn't take long for it to work. At first it was just a warm sensation spreading through his body in a slow wave. Then it intensified until Harry's toes curled with pleasure and his cock hardened in need. Drops of sweat ran down the back of his neck, where Snape's hand was still cupping his head. He moaned, tugging at his bonds, loving the way the hemp burned his wrists. He turned his head, trying to reach Snape's underarm, and rubbed his left cheek against the soft hairs covering the other man's skin. Snape let him. He took one of Harry's nipples between his fingers and pinched it until Harry arched into his hand, needing more.

"Slut," Snape said, and even his voice was like a caress. Harry's heart beat faster and his cock hardened even more.

"Please," Harry sobbed after a while, when it seemed as if he would die if Snape didn't enter him.

Snape slapped him. "Pay attention, Potter!" he yelled at Harry and slapped him again and again, until Harry's face burned and his head felt as if it was about to explode. Still Harry turned into the blows, moaning every time the other man's skin touched his.

"This isn't about your pleasure. It's about you finally learning something useful," Snape seethed, shaking Harry and forcing him to focus.

Harry listened, only then realising that Snape had been explaining how blood wards worked and how to break through them.

It was always like that. Snape would ask him things Harry was ignorant about and would punish him for not knowing. Then, when Harry's body was consumed by a pleasure so intense it was like pain, he would tell him the answer.

Harry tried to pay attention, tried to remember, but the overwhelming need pulled at him and stole his every breath until he could only think about the emptiness inside him and the desire overriding his every sense.

It was so typical for Snape to tell him the answers when he knew that Harry's entire mind was concentrated on. Not. Coming. Yet. Harry listened as well as he could, biting his lips brutally to have something to focus on other than his pulsing cock. Snape kept on talking, telling him about wards and the different ways to break them. His voice was like a caress, and it _hurt_ trying to understand him when all Harry wanted to do was drown in the silken sound.

Then finally, finally, Snape freed the restraints around Harry's ankles and spread Harry's legs, pushing them upwards until they rested over Snape's shoulders. He slammed into him, filling the emptiness eating Harry alive from the inside. Harry moaned and begged over Snape's voice, and Snape slapped him again, commanding his attention. Harry knew that he had missed at least three properties of the wards and that he would pay for them next time Snape quizzed him. But even the memory of the pain to come blurred under the pressure of his current want. Nothing mattered but Snape's thrusts. Harry rocked back into them, clenching around Snape every time he withdrew, yearning to have him back, deeper, faster.

Suddenly, Snape stopped mid-thrust, and Harry moaned in pain. He lifted his tailbone, trying to grind himself into Snape, but the other man held his hips easily, forcing him to remain still.

"Be quiet," Snape said. He pulled out of Harry and bound his ankles back to the bed. Harry heard a low, yearning whine and it wasn't until another slap rocked his face that he realised the sound had come from him. "I said be quiet," Snape hissed.

The jar with the yellow acid appeared in front of Harry's face, tipping dangerously. A drop dangled from the rim, threatening to fall on Harry's eye. He panted with fear, trembling, but somehow the fear just sharpened the edge of his desire. The head of his cock grazed his abdomen with every breath he took. Pre-come leaked from the tip, making it all slicker, hotter. Harry swallowed the moans forming on his throat.

Snape was talking to someone, but Harry couldn't see with whom. He didn't dare look away from that one yellow drop. It was only the threat of it falling that kept him focused on Snape's command. If he closed his eyes or turned his face the desire would overwhelm him, and he would start begging.

"Narcissa, this is really not the time," Snape was saying. Harry listened to him, trying to understand his words. Not because he wanted to, but because Snape had spent the last weeks training him to listen to his voice and remember, no matter the circumstances.

"Yes, Severus, I see," a woman answered. "Though I never would have taken you for one to share my sister's tastes. By Salazar, the boy is Draco's age! Does none of you have any shame?" It was harder to follow the woman's voice, but Harry tried. The candlelight danced on the yellow drop, reminding Harry why it was important to pay attention. He needed to know the answers when Snape asked him. He couldn't fail.

"I assure you, if I were your sister, you wouldn't recognise the boy's age for all the blood," Snape deadpanned.

"Hilarious, I'm sure. That isn't what I came here for, though. You need to talk to the Dark Lord. It's been over two years now, Severus. How long is he going to wait until he frees Lucius from Azkaban? He's been living here, in our house, eating our bread, using the protections of our Manor to keep the Ministry at bay, and yet he does nothing to free my husband. A contact inside the Ministry just wrote me. Scrimgeour plans to have all prisoners in Azkaban bearing the Dark Mark kissed. You have to do something, please. I know I've already asked a lot of you and if it weren't for you Draco would—"

"Don't say his name!" Snape interrupted her. Harry's focus returned at that tone of voice. It was the same Snape used when Harry had said or done something particularly stupid. "It's too dangerous." Silence followed and Harry started to lose himself again in the desire. He thrust his hips up and even the non-existent brush of cold air against his burning cock made him want to whimper. At last Snape's voice came again, holding Harry's attention. "I'm sorry, Narcissa. There's nothing I can do this time. Even now, after having killed Dumbledore, my position within the Dark Lord's ranks isn't as firm as I'd like. I'm afraid that I cannot intervene on Lucius' behalf."

"You're afraid that if you intervene on Lucius' behalf he will steal your place as the Dark Lord's second in command," Narcissa spat. "Have the decency to tell me the truth. I've known you long enough to see through you. Is that why you helped Draco? Because you knew he would be no competition and yet it would tie me to you in gratitude. Isn't it so?"

"I told you already not to mention his name. Believe what you will. I helped you where I could, but in this I cannot. Maybe you should ask your sister. I'm not the only person close to you that has the Dark Lord's ear," Snape said. Harry couldn't suppress the ingrained shudder that the anger in Snape's voice caused in him.

"As if she would help me." Narcissa laughed brokenly. "You were my last hope. I thought that you at least would still feel some loyalty towards Lucius. He was your friend, was he not?"

"He was more than my friend, Narcissa. He was my mentor. If it weren't for him I wouldn't be here today, serving the Dark Lord. That's why I won't put my position at risk to save him. It goes against everything Lucius has ever taught me. Were our positions reversed he wouldn't move a finger to aid me. Can you claim otherwise?"

"No," Narcissa said at last. "I'll leave you to your pleasure then. If you won't help me, I'll have to find another way."

"Don't be stupid, Narcissa. You're in no position to bargain with the Dark Lord," Snape told her.

"My loyalty belongs to my family, Severus. Neither you nor Bellatrix can understand that, but I won't remain passive while my husband's soul is destroyed. Lucius might have been many things, but he was always... Never mind! If you're not going to help me, then I'm wasting my time here. Good night, Severus."

"Narcissa, wait!" Snape called after her.

"Are you going to help me?" Her voice sounded further away now.

"I can't," he said.

"Then we have nothing more to talk about. Good night."

Harry heard her heels as she left the room, followed by a door closing. He held his breath in anticipation. To Harry it seemed like infinity as he waited for Snape to come back, poised on the verge of orgasm, biting his lips to stop himself from begging. The sound of a vase smashing against a wall shattered the silence. Harry turned his head in surprise.

Snape stood there, staring at the shards on the floor, naked, his cock half-hard. The light caught in his hair while his face remained shadowed. Harry moaned, forgetting everything else. Snape looked at him with an angry frown, his black eyes unreadable. He strode towards the bed.

Harry shrank back from the fury contorting Snape's mouth, remembering now the yellow potion still hanging there, in front of him. The drop didn't fall, though. With a swipe of Snape's hand the jar disappeared. Snape yanked Harry's legs open and the bindings dissolved into thin air. He pounded into Harry with such ferocity that the pain of each thrust broke through the layers of the aphrodisiac, dimming its effect until pleasure was the farthest thing from Harry's mind. Finally, Snape gave one more thrust and came with a shudder, his come filling Harry, burning him.

Harry's cock had softened as the pain cleared his mind from the last traces of the potion. He turned his face away, not wanting to see the twisted grimace of pleasure on his ex-Professor's face. Harry concentrated on breathing through the pain as Snape slammed into him one final time.

"I never thought I'd say this, but something good came out of you killing Dumbledore," Harry said when Snape finally collapsed on top of him, panting next to his ear. "At least he didn't live to see what a complete failure you've become. Traitor!" Harry didn't recognise his own voice. It was just a dead, empty sound devoid of emotion. He kept his eyes closed, not wanting to see the moment when Snape would retaliate.

"Shut up!" Snape screamed. His softening cock slipped out of Harry as he knelt up. He grabbed Harry's hair. "Look at me!" he ordered and twisted his fist until the pain in Harry's scalp forced Harry to open his eyes. "Look at me, arrogant boy! You know nothing! How dare you? My loyalties have never wavered. Don't blame me if you were and still are too blind to see who my true Master is. Useless! That's what you are! Useless!" Snape sputtered.

They glared at each other before Snape finally let go of Harry's hair with a snarl and left the bed. With a swift movement of his wand he dressed himself from head to foot and stomped out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

Harry remained there, tied to the bed, unable to move. Snape's come leaked out of his arsehole and down his thighs. The burning in his wrists pulsed with every breath he took. He felt bruised and dirty. It was midnight by the time a house-elf came and released him. Yet, for the first time since he was captured, something resembling hope kindled within him.

"Nilly," Harry called the house-elf back when it wanted to leave. "Do you have a minute to spare, please? I need your help."

"Master Harry is wanting Nilly's help," the little house-elf said, flapping her ears in excitement. It reminded Harry of Dobby. "Nilly is being happy to help in any way she can. Nilly isn't being able to help Master Harry leave the house, but Nilly is helping in anything else Master Harry is wanting."

"I know you can't help me escape." It was the first thing he had asked her when she started to serve him. Dobby had taught him to never underestimate house-elves. It had taken Harry more than ten minutes to stop her from punishing herself when she'd told him she couldn't help him escape. Harry hadn't asked again. "Can you come here if I call, regardless of the hour of the day? Or do you need permission from somebody else?" Harry asked.

"Nilly can, Master Harry. Nilly is having other duties, but Nilly can talk to the other house-elves. They are being happy to take Nilly's duties so that she can serve the great Master Harry Potter, Sir," she said, almost vibrating with eagerness.

"That's good to know. What do I need to do to call you? It has to be a silent signal. Something that another person can't overhear."

"Master Harry is only needing to wish for Nilly to come. I is going to be listening to Master Harry's call," she told him.

"I also need you to lie about your Master." Harry held his breath, hoping that she would still do it. He didn't know how the bond between Master and house-elf worked, and though Dobby had proven very resourceful, he was not sure whether other elves would be able or willing to do the same.

She remained quiet for a short while. "Nilly is doing it, Master Harry. She's having to punish herself afterwards, but Nilly is helping Harry Potter in any way she can. Harry Potter freed Dobby. All house-elves here are being very grateful, Master Harry. Dobby is being an example to us all."

He hesitated when she told him that she would need to punish herself, but in the end it was his only chance. Ron, Hermione and the others were trying to free him, but they didn't know where he was and even if they did, Malfoy Manor was too well protected. He couldn't wait for them, not if there was something he could try on his own.

It took two days before the opportunity Harry was waiting for presented itself. A slight pain in his scar alerted him of the Dark Lord's approach. Nilly appeared as soon as Harry summoned her. "Are you ready?" he asked her when the pain of his scar intensified. They couldn't wait much longer.

She nodded frantically, twisting the hem of her pillowcase between her skinny fingers. Then she closed her eyes, took a deep breath and looked at him, lifting her chin with set determination.

"Master Harry isn't needing to feel sorry for himself," she said, her voice carrying just the right amount.

"I don't feel sorry for myself," Harry assured her in what he hoped sounded like a mix of defiance and misery. It wasn't too bad for a first try.

The pain in his scar reached an edge that, he knew from past experience, meant the Dark Lord was just seconds away from opening the door. He gestured at Nilly to go on.

"Master Harry is needing to be grateful that the Lord has not allowed Nilly's Master to come back," she continued, pitching her voice higher. It was a perfect blend of relief and trepidation. "Bad Nilly, bad Nilly! Nilly isn't supposed to speak about her master's secrets."

"Malfoy could do nothing to me that hasn't been done already."

"Master Harry isn't knowing what Master Malfoy is capable of. No one is knowing, only the house-elves," Nilly said.

Harry ticked off the seconds in his head. A minute had passed, and the pain in his scar still remained the same, neither increasing nor diminishing. Harry didn't want to hope, but hope surged, unstoppable.

"Master Malfoy is bringing young Muggles here when the little Master and the Lady are being in France," Nilly continued, prompted by Harry's hand sign. "They are being the same age as Master Harry is now. He's doing horrible things to them. Nilly is having to clean the rooms and what is being left of their bodies. Nilly is being sick for days afterwards, every time. Even Mistress Bellatrix is treating her slaves better. You is needing to be grateful that the Great Lord isn't bringing Master Malfoy here."

"It can't... it can't be that b... bad," Harry stammered. He let his voice carry all the fear and pain he had tried so hard to hide over the last weeks.

"It's not being that bad, Master Harry. It's being worse. Bad Nilly, bad Nilly," she sobbed and smashed her head against the wall. Harry tried to stop her, but it was useless. "Nilly isn't saying more. She's being forbidden by the Master to tell anyone. Nilly is leaving to iron her hands." She disappeared with a soft popping sound.

"Figures that Malfoy would turn out a psychopath," Harry said to the empty room. "I hope he rots in Azkaban forever. That gives me hope. The fucking bastard is doing worse than I am." He let a half-broken laugh escape. The small edge of hysteria took even him aback. It was too real.

The pain in his scar remained the same for a while, before it very slowly started to fade.

Three days later Lucius Malfoy knelt at the Dark Lord's feet; Harry's bound body lay next to him. They were surrounded by the circle of Death Eaters. Malfoy's usually perfect hair looked matted and dirty. His clothes were ragged to the point that even the Dursleys wouldn't have allowed Harry to wear them.

His eyes had a crazed shine that reminded Harry of the first time he had seen Sirius. The usual pang that accompanied thoughts of his godfather disappeared when Lucius advanced towards him. A sense of foreboding crept through Harry, making him doubt for the first time the wisdom of his plan. Harry pushed the feeling away.

Hours later, after he had screamed himself hoarse among the lecherous laughter and coarse encouragements of the Death Eaters, his worst fears came true. Nothing in the weeks before had prepared him for how vulnerable and broken he felt as he lay there, covered in tears and sweat, his nose clogged, with Lucius' arm stuffed inside him past the elbow. He screamed and begged and promised anything, anything, to Lucius, to the Dark Lord, even to Snape. He just wanted it to end. Snape remained silent, if he was there at all; Harry couldn't recognise his face among the masked Death Eaters. The Dark Lord just laughed as he stroked himself over Harry's face until he came all over him.

Through it all Lucius' eyes never left Harry's. Their intensity cut through Harry's already thin defences faster and deeper than the most brutal Legilimency session with Snape ever did. It was as if Lucius was cataloguing Harry's every reaction just to turn it against him seconds later.

"I told you that one day you would come to the same sticky end as your parents," Lucius whispered in his ear when his fist was at its deepest inside Harry. "I lied. Your end is going to be far worse. I'll make sure of it, even if it's the last thing I do." Then he ripped his arm out of Harry in a single, brutal motion that made Harry black out in pain.

It took Snape three days to heal him completely. Lucius came into Harry's room on the fourth day. He didn't resemble the wild, ragged man who had ripped Harry apart physically and mentally. Only his grey eyes were the same. Harry couldn't help the shudders wracking his body as he curled in on himself in the farthest corner of the bed and frantically followed Lucius' every move with his eyes.

"It seems as if the Dark Lord chose a room that fits your talents," Lucius said, studying Harry's chambers with barely contained disdain. "Of course, the Malfoys would never have allowed a Half-Blood inside the Manor. Even our courtesans were better than you. But you're not a courtesan, are you? Just a dirty, cheap whore."

Harry hugged his knees and curled on himself, concentrating in breathing through the phantom pain inside him. He hated how thankful he felt when Lucius didn't move closer.

"I didn't come here to discuss your accommodations, though. I had a very interesting conversation with one of my house-elves." Lucius said, studying Harry carefully. "You'd be surprised what the useless creatures are forced to reveal when their true Master orders it.

"What do you want, Potter?" Lucius asked when it became evident Harry wouldn't talk.

"Leave," Harry whispered.

"After you went to all that trouble to bring me here? I don't think so. You wanted something, and no matter how pleasant it might have been, I don't believe that it was my fist up your arse. Tell me!" he ordered.

For some insane reason, Harry did. He still could feel the unrelenting pressure of Lucius' arm inside him, as if it had never left him. Maybe it never had. It never would.

"An alliance against the Dark Lord," Lucius mused, once Harry had finished. He made a choked noise that turned into a chuckle and then into a full laugh. "Gryffindors! Did you even stop to think that I might tell the Dark Lord about it? I could win his trust again with your carefully kept secret."

"What secret? That I want to escape this prison and kill him? Please don't make me laugh. He knows that already," Harry said, suddenly angry. He embraced the anger; it erased his fear. It made him see Malfoy for who he was: a coward who could not look past his prejudices and his awe of a madman. A condescending bigoted coward at that.

"Or you could tell him that I know about his Horcruxes," Harry continued. "Oh, that's right; he knows that too." His voice dripped faux regret. "It was how he captured me after all. The only thing he's not aware of is that _you_ hold the secret to stop his immortality. I wonder how he'll react to that once you tell him.

"Maybe he'll kill you as he killed Regulus Black," Harry went on, relishing the widening of Lucius' eyes. "You did know about Regulus, didn't you? What did Voldemort tell you? That Regulus had betrayed him and needed to die? Well, I have news for you. Regulus was faithful until the end," Harry lied. "His only mistake was sharing his knowledge of the Horcruxes with the Dark Lord. Voldemort killed him. Not because Regulus betrayed him, but because he _knew_."

"You're lying," Lucius said, but his voice lacked conviction and his eyes showed fear.

"I've lived at Sirius' house since I left Hogwarts. You'd be surprised what Regulus' portrait was willing to tell me," Harry said, leaning back on the bed with nonchalance.

Malfoy's breath caught.

Harry _knew_ the other man was starting to crack. He wondered if that was what Malfoy had felt when he was raping Harry; if that was what they all felt? Harry crushed the part of him that understood why they did it. It was addictive, having this much power over someone, using their fear against them. Who would have thought that manipulation would feel this natural? This right?

"Regulus left a portrait? Of course he did," Malfoy muttered to himself.

"Yes, of course," Harry said. "It was he who told me about the Horcruxes, at least the ones he knew about. He might have been faithful, but Voldemort killed him and like any Black worth his blood he wanted revenge." Harry enjoyed how Malfoy recoiled at the mention of the Dark Lord's name. "Only three persons alive know about the Horcruxes: Voldemort himself, me, and now you. For some reason I haven't discovered yet he wants me alive. You, I'm not so sure about. You already helped destroy one of his Horcruxes. His punishment was brutal then. What do you think it will be like now?"

"I've never destroyed one of the Dark Lord's Horcruxes!" Lucius said. His voice wasn't as arrogant as it had been before, though. In Lucius, Harry was learning, lack of arrogance was as much as an admission of defeat. He knew already; Harry saw it in his eyes. He just needed to hear it. Harry obliged.

"Tom Riddle's diary, Malfoy. That was his first Horcrux. He entrusted it to you, and you gave it away, to a Weasley no less, and thus, to me: his worst enemy."

"A Horcrux," Malfoy repeated flabbergasted.

"Yes, a Horcrux. I could care less about what you do with the information I gave you. As far as I'm concerned, you're welcome to tell the Dark Lord," Harry smiled. "He'll punish me for telling you, even for plotting to escape. But what is one more rape among dozens, when in exchange he'll probably let me witness what he'll do to you? He'd mean it as a lesson, of course. And I assure you, Malfoy, it will be the only lesson he could teach me that I would thoroughly enjoy. As a matter of fact, do tell him. Please."

Malfoy didn't answer, didn't move. He just stood there, lost in thought. Harry watched him, not daring to move either. His future was being decided in that instant. Alone he had no chance but to wait, but if Malfoy cracked, then... Harry didn't know, but at least he would have something to hope for.

"What does this alliance of yours exactly entail?" Lucius finally asked.

For the first time in his life, Harry believed that the Sorting Hat had been right when it told him he would have done well in Slytherin.

* * *

" _Nagini, Severus has come to me with some very useful information,_ " Lord Voldemort hissed to his snake. He sat in the Manor's study, contemplating the fire. With his index finger he traced the diamond patterns on Nagini's head, enjoying the approving sounds she made. "Apparently, he's been approached by Lupin, the werewolf. He cannot longer bear the burden of his monthly transformation and is willing to give Snape information about the Order of the Phoenix in exchange for the Wolfsbane Potion."

" _Weakling!_ " she hissed in displeasure, leaning her head into his fingers. " _Can he be trusted?_ "

" _I'm not sure yet. Neither is Snape. He tried to probe his mind, but werewolves have a natural resistance to Legilimency. It could be a trap, but as Snape pointed out, we don't have much to lose, except for some potions ingredients,_ " Voldemort said.

He liked discussing his tactics with his familiar. It wasn't so much that her suggestions were useful as the fact that talking with someone about his plans helped him to focus. She was the only living creature he could trust.

He turned his attention to the book on his lap, leaving the decision about Lupin for later. He was almost sure that he would follow Severus' advice and have him test Lupin's truthfulness. The Potion Master had proven very useful over the years, even more so than usual during the last months. It was a good thing that Severus had finally asked for something in exchange. Men with no ambitions or desires had no weaknesses. It made them dangerous.

A knock interrupted his reading. He raised his head, surprised when a spell showed him Lucius waiting on the other side of the door. He wondered what Malfoy could want.

During the last week, the other man had been busy following his instructions to break Potter. He was proving quite successful, if Voldemort's last encounter with the boy was anything to judge by. One week under Lucius' care and Potter was starting to lose some of the defiance that so bothered Voldemort. It was more than Bellatrix, Snape and even himself had achieved during the two months since the boy's capture.

"Come in," the Dark Lord said and asked Nagini to leave the room. She gave an irritated hiss but complied. Lucius opened the door and walked towards him, kneeling in front of his seat. The Dark Lord's curiosity was suddenly piqued. It was not every day that Lucius willingly knelt; sometimes it took a carefully applied dose of Cruciatus for him to remember.

"My Lord." Lucius put more subservience into those two words than Wormtail put into a sentence. "Please forgive my presumption, but I need to talk to you."

"What do you want?" Voldemort asked, knowing that this wasn't just a visit. Lucius needed something that only the Dark Lord could give him.

"It's about my son, Draco. I've heard that you've captured him," Lucius said, his eyes still trained on the floor.

Voldemort toyed with the idea of ordering him to look at him, but decided not to. This continued show of submission would do more to weaken Lucius' defences than Cruciatus could, and it was too early for that yet.

"Yes, I have," the Dark Lord agreed. He knew what Lucius would ask. Too bad, really. He would have liked to have Lucius owe him even more than he already did, but keeping Severus happy had priority at the moment. The Dark Lord had already agreed to give the boy to Snape to do with as he pleased. There was nothing Lucius could offer that would make him change his mind. "The boy's fate has already been decided, Lucius. Coming here was useless. There is nothing you can do to sway me."

"My Lord, please just hear me out. I have some information that is worth you sparing my son's life," Lucius said, raising his eyes for the first time. It was strange, seeing so much naked desperation on Lucius' usually composed face.

"His life?" Voldemort repeated softly. He was surprised to hear that Lucius didn't know yet about his deal with Snape. It seemed as if his Potion Master was keeping his cards hidden. How very interesting.

Voldemort's lips curled in an unpleasant smile. If Lucius hadn't come to free the boy from Snape's clutches but to plead for his life, Voldemort would listen to what he had to offer. After all, Lucius only wanted the boy to live. Young Malfoy could perfectly well keep on living while he was Snape's catamite. If Snape hadn't told Lucius that the boy's life was already paid for, then Lord Voldemort didn't see why he had to tell him either.

"What do you have to offer in exchange, my slippery friend?"

For a moment it seemed as if Lucius would not take the bait. Some unreadable expression clouded his eyes before he managed to school his features to show only aristocratic indifference.

"Potter has a plan to escape," Lucius said after a moment's pause.

"Interesting." Voldemort kept his voice even. It seemed as if once more he had underestimated Potter. It should have taken the boy longer than two months to overcome all the rapes and humiliations and gather his wits enough to plot an escape. It wouldn't do to show Lucius his surprise, though. "But I knew he'd try to escape even before I captured him."

"I don't think you understand the seriousness of it, my Lord. Potter's plan is, or was, faultless. He hasn't escaped yet because he _chose_ not to, and not for lack of opportunity." Lucius looked straight at him as if daring him to read his mind.

"He _chose_ to remain here and suffer through all we've been doing to him? Somehow I find it hard to believe you, Lucius."

"He wants to kill Nagini first," Lucius said. "He's convinced that he won't have as good an opportunity to achieve this if he leaves. Apparently, destroying her is worth all that you have put him through and more."

Voldemort's eyes turned the deepest shade of red, and his nostrils flared. He balled his hands into fists while he forced himself to remain in the room. If he went to Potter he would kill him and that would be counterproductive. He couldn't kill the boy, but there were other things he could do. He forced open the link between him and Potter which he had kept closed during the last months and sent all his hatred and rage through it, increasing the intensity until he sensed Potter's end of the connection fail.

The Dark Lord turned his attention to Lucius, who was still kneeling in front of him. He might not be able to take his fury out on Potter, but that protection didn't extend to Malfoy.

" _Crucio_!" Voldemort watched Lucius scream, letting the flow of dark magic calm him down. He lifted the curse seconds before Lucius' mind snapped completely.

It took Lucius about ten minutes until he was recovered enough to do more than twitch on the floor in the aftermath of the curse, his muscles still not understanding that the pain was over. Voldemort walked to him and placed his foot on Lucius' exposed throat, watching with satisfaction as the other man's eyes widened in fear. He pressed down softly.

"How long have you known?" he asked.

Lucius hesitated to answer. "A week," he finally said.

"You arrived here only a week and a half ago." Lord Voldemort took his foot off Lucius and stepped back, doing the maths in his head. The memory of Potter's conversation with the house-elf came to his mind unbidden. Potter had played him. He had played him beautifully. Lord Voldemort knew that he should be angry about it, but for some insane reason he found it amusing. He laughed, unable to help himself.

"Potter tricked you, my Lord," Lucius told him after he had managed to rise up onto one knee again. His whole body tensed as if expecting another curse.

Lord Voldemort laughed harder, enjoying the confused look it brought to Malfoy's face.

"Yes, I gathered as much," the Dark Lord said after a while, still chuckling. "What I don't understand is how your coming here fits into his escape plan."

"He found out somehow that the Minister was going to let the Dementors kiss me." Lucius shuddered at the memory. "He thought that if I owed him a life debt, I would be forced to help him. Since I'm the master of the Manor, the magic of this house will obey me before it does you. With my help he could escape."

"Yes," the Dark Lord said. "With your help he could escape. The question is, why would you help him? Potter is Muggle-raised. He doesn't know how these things work, but saving your soul isn't the same as saving your life. You didn't owe him anything."

"No, I didn't. But I wanted to help him nonetheless. Not to escape, but to kill you," Lucius snarled. Malfoy closed his eyes for an instant while he breathed deeply. When he opened them again Voldemort was surprised to recognise the expression reflected on them.

It was the look of someone who knew his death was near and didn't fear it. Voldemort had ever understood it. How could someone look death in the face and not be afraid? How could someone resign himself to die when there was so much that still needed to be done? It was not a look that he had ever expected to see in Lucius Malfoy.

"You truly believed it would be that easy?" the Dark Lord asked with a chilling voice.

"No, I didn't. However, Potter was right about one thing. You stole my freedom and my house; threatened my son's life and my own, when all we ever did was try our best to serve you. Why should I have remained loyal when you repay loyalty the same way you repay treason? Even worse, if one looks at Snape and Wormtail." Lucius lips curled in disgust. "A Malfoy would not be worthy of the blood running through his veins if he didn't seek revenge on those who offend him. It's the oldest of traditions among the pureblood families, not that a half-blood like you would know."

"Careful yet, Lucius. Your life and your son's still rest in my hands. It would be a pity for the blood of the Malfoys to die out the same way the blood of the Blacks did. The same way the blood of the Potters will," the Dark Lord said coldly.

"I know better than to hope for my life. It's Draco's life I care about. It's why I came here, even though I knew the price for myself."

Voldemort chuckled. "Do you believe that I would spare your son's life after this? Why should I grant you that which you most seek, when it would be the perfect punishment: to kill him and let you watch. Better yet, I could force you to kill him and let you live with the knowledge."

"Because I know Potter's secrets and his plan to kill you. It's not even half bad, for a Gryffindor," Lucius said.

"I could break into your mind and rip your secrets from it." The Dark Lord walked closer to Lucius' kneeling form. He lifted his wand slowly and placed it against Lucius' temple.

Lucius didn't flinch.

"You could, but Legilimency does not give all the answers," Malfoy said. "I would fight you with all my power. You'll never know what secrets I managed to keep to myself before my mind finally broke. However, if you take a vow to spare Draco, I'll open my mind to you and show you all of Potter's secrets.

"You can kill me afterwards," Lucius continued. "You can make my death so painful that I will regret the day I agreed to betray you. I might even resent my son for ever being born. That will be then. Now, sparing the boy costs you nothing and gives you much. It's a good bargain." Lucius' voice didn't falter.

"Maybe you're right," the Dark Lord said. It would be a pity to lose Malfoy. He had been a powerful servant and his influence in some circles couldn't be underestimated. He couldn't spare Malfoy, though, not after he had admitted his desire to see him dead.

A plan started to form in the Dark Lord's head as he watched Lucius' resignation to die. Malfoy would do anything to save his son's life.

The Dark Lord lowered his wand slowly and smiled. "What if I want more than just to kill you?" he asked. "You have quite an amazing amount of magical power within you. It's nowhere near mine, of course, not even near Potter's, but not to be easily dismissed either. Properly bound and controlled I could find some use for you. The question is, what are you willing to give to spare your son my wrath?"

"Anything." Lucius didn't hesitate.

It was too perfect.

"Anything, Lucius? Really?" the Dark Lord said, walking around him. "Plotting with Gryffindors has clouded your judgement. You better than anyone should know how dangerous it is to give me carte blanche. I have this tendency to take _everything_ and more."

"I know, but Draco is my son. There's nothing I wouldn't do for him."

"How delightful! I'm quite touched. Fine, we shall take a vow. I will spare your son's life and in exchange you will give me _anything_ I want," the Dark Lord said.

"As long as what you ask does not, in any direct or indirect way, aid in killing my son." Lucius watched him suspiciously.

"Would I ever betray your trust like that?" The Dark Lord smirked.

"Yes, you would," Lucius answered, a thin smile breaking on his lips.

Yes, it would be a pity to lose such a servant, Lord Voldemort thought. "Don't worry, Lucius, I'm sure that we can word the vow in a way that fits both our purposes. Did you bring your wand?"

"Of course," Lucius said. "Who should we use as a Bonder?"

"No one," the Dark Lord said. "Unending vows don't require a Bonder."

"An unending vow," Lucius was taken aback. "You could force me to do anything you wanted forever."

"I believe that is the point. You did promise everything, Lucius. Do you want to start placing conditions before the vow is even made?" Lord Voldemort asked. "Are you, or are you not willing to do anything? It's your choice. The last one you'll ever have."

Lucius stood up and faced the Dark Lord. "I'll take the vow," he said. He pulled his wand out of his cane, and pointed it at the Dark Lord's heart. Lord Voldemort clasped Lucius' other hand with his own, before he too lifted his wand and pointed it at Lucius' heart.

"Do you, Lucius Malfoy, vow to do anything I ask of you for as long as you shall live, without hesitation? Do you agree to fulfil my every order to the best of your conscious and subconscious abilities, without questioning their purpose?" the Dark Lord said. Strings of green light flowed from his wand into Lucius' heart and from there back into their joined hands.

"Yes, I do. Do you vow to spare Draco Malfoy's life now and forever, to stop others from killing him or permanently harming him as long as it is in your power to prevent it? Do you agree not to take any direct or indirect action that could result in Draco Malfoy's death?" Lucius asked.

The magic sought an anchor within them.

"Yes, I do," Lord Voldemort said and the magic sank into him, finally finding its target. The light burned into the skin of their hands and into their hearts, flaring for a second before disappearing.

"It's done," Lucius said. He took his hand away and looked at Voldemort warily.

"So it is." The Dark Lord traced his fingers over Lucius' neck. "Strip," he ordered. "I want to see exactly what I just acquired."

"My Lord?" Lucius asked unsure.

"You heard me, Lucius. You offered anything and I intent to collect. Except for your life, which I will allow you to keep, I will take everything you have to give and more. That includes your body. Now strip!"

"Of course, my Lord." Lucius said. His hands opened layer after layer of clothing without trembling once.

When he had finished, the Dark Lord went to him and took Lucius' chin between his fingers, turning his face this way and that. When Lucius' lips curled in anger he increased the pressure of his hand in a silent warning. Lucius remained quiet.

"Such a proud man you are, my friend," Voldemort said. "It will be what I'll miss the most once I'm done with you. But have no fear; your son shall be safe from my wrath, now and ever."

He closed his lips over Lucius', forcing them open with his tongue. Lucius did not respond, but he did not try to break free either.

"You'll do fine," the Dark Lord said, breaking the kiss. "But first, your secrets. Open your mind to me, Lucius. That's an order. _Legilimens_!"

* * *

" _Not Harry! Not Harry! Please — I'll do anything—_ "

"Potter! Potter, wake up."

Harry opened his eyes, but he couldn't see anything. It was too cold, as if his soul was freezing from the inside. His mother kept screaming, her voice at times so near that Harry thought he should be able to see her and at times so far away he could just make out the words.

"Stay awake! By Salazar, what's wrong with you?" A hand touched his brow. It felt like fire on his chilled skin. "You're freezing."

Harry whimpered, trying to get closer to the heat. Anything to keep him anchored in the present, away from Godric's Hollow and his mother's screams. "De—, Demen—," he tried to explain, but the words would not come.

"Wait here, I'll take care of it."

The hand left him. Harry made a keening sound, like a wounded animal, but it didn't come back.

Harry was in Godric's Hollow again, and his father was telling his mother, " _Lily, take Harry and go! It's him! Go! Run!_ " A cackle of high-pitched laughter came from down-stairs and Harry heard Voldemort casting the Killing Curse. Just he and his mother remained. Voldemort kept on laughing. His mother's pleas blended with the laughter. Green light filled the room, and the pain that followed was so intense it took everything else with it, even the cold.

"Potter, the Dementor is gone. Stop the theatrics and wake up."

Harry blinked a few times, but his eyes couldn't focus.

"There you are. Here, eat this." Something was shoved into his mouth.

The taste of pure, dark chocolate surprised him. It was like tasting the sun after a long winter. Harry opened his eyes again and was surprised to recognise Malfoy, looking at him with an expression that would have been worry in any other person. He knew better, though.

"Why?"

"Really, Potter," Lucius snorted. "If after six years at Hogwarts you don't know that chocolate helps against Dementors, I will have to thank Severus once more for killing Dumbledore. As a wizard, I can do nothing but be ashamed of how low Hogwarts' education standards fell during his time as Headmaster."

"That's not what I asked." Harry felt too worn out to rise to the bait. "Why help me?"

"I have plans for you yet. You losing your mind does not play a part in them. Did you think I cared, Potter?" Lucius asked mockingly.

"No," Harry snapped, hating that a part of him still wanted to believe that someone did care, even if it was just Malfoy. He grabbed another piece of chocolate from Lucius' hand without asking and chewed on it, glaring at Lucius.

Lucius, the annoying prat, just chuckled. He broke off another piece and offered it to Harry with a teasing smile that made Harry's blood boil, but didn't stop him from eating it. Voldemort had never used hunger as a punishment. Harry suspected it was because somehow he knew about the Dursleys. He probably didn't want to use the same punishments Muggles did. Too bad, really, for Harry was used to hunger. He doubted he could ever get used to rape, even if at times it seemed as if he had never known anything else.

"Why was a Dementor here? I've never sensed one before." Harry hoped that it wouldn't become a common occurrence. He had enough problems as it was.

"The Dark Lord summoned it. I'm afraid the resistance has one supporter less." Lucius' smile was chilling.

Harry shuddered at the implication. "Anyone I knew?" he asked with trepidation.

"No one you'll miss. Let's talk about something else," Lucius said, clenching his fists.

Harry wanted to protest, but then he remembered how much time Lucius had spent near Dementors, how close he'd come to being kissed himself. He probably wasn't too comfortable in their presence either, even if he would never admit it.

"How did you get the chocolate, anyway?" Harry asked, changing the topic. The last traces of its bitter, dark taste still remained in his mouth.

"It's _my_ house, Potter," Lucius said. "Everything in it belongs to me." He traced a finger along Harry's face and down his neck. "It's my prerogative to use, share, break or give away anything within these walls. Anything," he whispered into Harry's ear.

"And here I thought Voldemort had taken all those privileges away from you." Harry's breath caught as Lucius' finger wandered closer to his left nipple. He pushed Malfoy back with his left hand, relieved when Lucius gave in, granting Harry some distance.

Lucius' eyes shone with a strange light that reminded Harry of the times Malfoy had used him in front of Voldemort and the Death Eaters. It was nothing like the indifference with which Lucius addressed him when they were alone.

"The Dark Lord gives and takes. He has taken much from me, but he has given me so much more," Lucius said. The corners of his lips moved, but it wasn't quite the usual, arrogant Malfoy's smirk. It was more sinister than any expression Harry had seen on Malfoy's face so far.

"What has he given you, then?" Harry asked, sitting up and watching Lucius warily. Something was not right. He couldn't put his finger on it, but every instinct in his body was telling him to take care.

"My son's life," Lucius told him.

"Then he has given you nothing. If you think he will feel bound by such a promise you don't know him as well as you should after having served him for so long. Besides, Draco's life isn't his to give or take." Harry forced himself to relax. It wouldn't do for Lucius to know how much Harry needed him.

"You'd be surprised how many lives depend on the Dark Lord's say-so, including yours. Especially yours," Lucius said, inching forward. "As for his promise to spare Draco, well, I can be certain that he won't harm the boy, unless he does something terribly foolish. Even then, he will spare his life."

"You truly believe that?" Harry asked. He had never pictured Lucius as naïve; prejudiced, cunning and ambitious, yes, but naïve, not in a million years.

"He's bound by magic, Potter. Not even he would dare mess with that kind of power."

"Old magic then," Harry said. His mother's screams echoed in the back of his mind once more, sobering him. "He has messed with it before."

Lucius laughed. "Obviously, or you wouldn't be here today."

"You know about that?" Harry frowned. "I wasn't aware that many people knew about that night."

"I'm the Dark Lord's right hand man. Of course I know these things."

"I thought you were under house arrest until you proved yourself? Snape is the one who—" Harry's voice faded as a new thought came into his mind. "Unless— what did you give him? What did you sacrifice for Draco's life?"

"I'm afraid your little secrets are not so secret any more, my dear Harry. However, you need not fear punishment," Lucius said. "I managed to convince the Dark Lord that it'd be best to let you think that I'm still working with you against him, so that I can find out all you know."

"Why would I tell you anything knowing that?" Harry asked, raising his eyebrows in disbelief.

"Gryffindors, always so black and white. Of course you will, Potter. I need to give something to the Dark Lord. He needs to believe that I'm still loyal to him. Otherwise he'll rip my mind open and the Occlumency I know won't be enough to keep the truth hidden."

"What truth?"

"Salazar give me strength! The fact that I am, despite my better judgment, actually helping you to find a way to kill Voldemort once and for all." Lucius said, grabbing Harry's shoulders and shaking him.

"You used his name," Harry said, flabbergasted.

"Excuse me."

"Voldemort's name, you used it."

"Of course I did. Is there a reason I shouldn't? Please you of all people don't believe that idiocy that he can actually hear you if you call his name aloud, do you?"

"I don't. It's you who has never spoken his name before." Harry eyed Lucius. Something still didn't add up about him.

"Yes, I have, just not anywhere you could have heard it," Lucius said. "But I trust you now. Well, as far as I'm able to trust anyone," he added with a smirk. "I told Voldemort about the Horcruxes: the ones that have already been destroyed and the ones that remain."

"And yet you're still breathing." Harry chortled. "Who do you think you're fooling? Who does he think he's fooling, sending you to me? I'm not Dumbledore. I won't be so blind as to trust you the way he trusted Snape, so that you can betray me in the end. Forget it!" Harry said between clenched teeth.

"Believe me, Potter, if I didn't need you to get rid of Voldemort I would leave you here to wallow in your own stupidity and self-righteousness. I did what needed to be done," Lucius lashed out. He pushed Harry back, crowding him against the headboard with his body. "I've told him nothing of use," he breathed into Harry's ear. "He knows better than anyone which Horcruxes have been destroyed and which still remain. As you so carefully pointed out in our first conversation, he also knows that you intend to destroy the rest and kill him. The only new information he has is that I intended to aid you."

"Then how come you're still alive?" Harry asked, turning his face towards Lucius. They were so close that he could only see the skin on Lucius' temple and the fine silver hairs, too short to be tied, that moved with each breath he took.

"Because even though I told him nothing he didn't know already, I did tell him everything I knew. That means a lot in the Dark Lord's eyes."

"You betrayed me," Harry said.

"He was going to kill Draco. Your secrets are nothing when weighed against his life. Isn't that what your father would have done? What your mother did? There was never a choice," Lucius said.

"I know. That's why I can't trust you."

"Please" Lucius huffed. "Because you trusted me so much before. What do you have to lose? The Dark Lord is never going to kill you. He wants you broken, but not dead. Even if I do betray you, it changes nothing. You are already his prisoner. You are already starting to break."

"I'm not," Harry seethed.

"Oh yes, you are. The first cracks in your armour are showing," Lucius whispered. "Two months ago the thought of being bound to the Dark Lord's bed while he raped you had you waking up screaming in the evening. Now, you're almost relieved when it happens. It means that you're spared Bellatrix's whips or Snape's potions. Where do you think you'll be in two more months?" he asked. "By then, you'll look forward to the Dark Lord's bed. You'll be comforted when it's just Bellatrix or Snape, instead of someone far worse. And believe me, Potter, where the Dark Lord is concerned, there is always worse. That much you should know by now.

"So you see," Lucius continued. "Even if I were to betray you, nothing would change. Sooner or later, you'll break regardless of what I do or don't do."

"I won't let him break me," Harry said. His voice didn't waver, but even though he sounded certain, Harry knew it for the lie it was. He couldn't deny the truth in Lucius' words.

"It's not a choice, Potter. Stay here long enough and you will find out for yourself."

"I don't plan to stay here that long," Harry said.

"Then you'll need my help, no matter how untrustworthy it seems," Lucius pointed out.

"If you're so willing to help me why don't you help me escape now?"

"Because I can't, not without dying in the process. I'm too much of a Slytherin to assist you in a plan that ends up harming me instead of serving my purpose," Lucius told him.

"And your purpose is?"

"You already know. It hasn't changed since our last talk. I want _Voldemort_ dead. That goal we have in common. After it is achieved we part ways. You'll try to save the world and I'll try to control it. It's as easy as that," Lucius smiled.

Harry snorted. "You want me to help you become the next Dark Lord?"

"I don't need your help for that," Lucius told him. "Even if you were willing to give it, it would mean nothing. Not everyone can be a Dark Lord. It requires a specific kind of power that the Malfoy line lacks. I do want to kill Voldemort though. You have much to win and little to lose. What does your tiny Gryffindor mind not understand about this?"

"If you don't help me escape, I won't help you stay free of Azkaban after the Dark Lord is dead, even if we work together to kill him," Harry said.

"Fair enough. We have a deal then?"

"We do."

"Let's make it official." Lucius stood up from the bed and walked to the middle of the room. Once there he signalled Harry to follow him. "When working with enemies a bit of binding magic does wonders for my sleep." He waited for Harry to stand beside him before taking his wand out of his cane and clasping Harry's hand with his.

"What kind of binding?" Harry asked him.

"An intent binding," Lucius told him.

"What's that?"

"You don't know? Salazar! How can you be this ignorant and still know how to breathe? At least now I know how you survived the Dark Lord so many times. You're a walking miracle," Lucius said with contempt, releasing Harry's hand. "Intent magic binds two or more wizards with a common goal and compels them to reach it. For instance, if we were being questioned under Veritaserum or with Legilimency, the magic would counter the effects of the potions for questions related to our plans and would hide the parts of our minds where that information is stored. If you wanted to betray me to the Dark Lord, you'll find yourself unable to speak about it. The same will apply to me."

"Why didn't you suggest this before?" Harry asked, annoyed that he had not known how to bind Lucius to keep his plans hidden.

"You didn't ask for it," Lucius said. "It was in my best interest then not to remind you. However, now the Dark Lord knows about our plans. Even though he believes I'm spying for him, he'll use his powers to pry my mind open. I need to be prepared and so do you. It wouldn't do for him to find out where my true loyalties lie."

"All right. I'll do it," Harry said. "I don't have my wand, though."

"You won't need it." Lucius offered his hand to Harry and waited until he took it. "Now, focus on the one goal we have in common. Don't ruin it by thinking of saving the world or something equally ridiculously noble. The magic only holds if both wizards have the same goal. I'll do the necessary spell work. The moment the magic recognises that we share a purpose it will bind us. Ready?"

"As I'll ever be." Harry screwed his eyes shut. He concentrated on how much he wanted to finally find all Horcruxes and destroy the Dark Lord once and for all. The magic whirled and whirled around their joined hands. After a while Lucius yanked back his hand with a snarl. Harry opened his eyes, looking at him expectantly. "Did it work?"

"No, it didn't," Lucius snapped. "What did you think about? Just concentrate on what we both want."

"Maybe it's you who's not concentrating!" Harry seethed.

"Look. Just picture the Horcruxes in your head and the two of us destroying them. This kind of magic works better with specific ideas. If you're too general about your goal it finds divergences between the parties' wishes," Lucius said.

"We both want to kill Voldemort, or so you claim. What divergence could there be? Unless there is something you aren't telling me."

"Paranoia does not suit you. If your thoughts are too vague the magic will fail. For instance, if you aren't willing to use Unforgivable Curses but I am, it will consider that our goals differ," Lucius explained in a condescending tone.

"Of course I won't use Unforgivables!"

"Believe me, Potter. I'm perfectly aware of your limitations. However, I won't be bound by them. If you want this to work, we need to give the magic a clear, common objective. Picture the two of us destroying Hufflepuff's Cup, Slytherin's locket and Nagini, and in the end both of us killing Voldemort. Try to be as concrete about it as you can." Lucius proffered his hand once more.

Harry blushed in embarrassment, understanding now why it hadn't quite worked the first time. "Actually, I've already destroyed the locket," he said, his face burning.

Lucius' hand fell to his side and his face whitened beyond its usual pallor. For a moment Harry thought he might faint. "What? That's impossible! I would... You didn't tell me this the first time we talked." Lucius said, aghast.

"I was hardly going to tell you everything I knew. I hinted at it. I told you Regulus had told us everything he knew about the Horcruxes. Well, Slytherin's locket was the one he knew most about, right to its location. Do you think that's why the magic didn't work? Because you were thinking about three Horcruxes when there are only two left?"

"Yes. That's probably it." Lucius' voice had a more calculating tone to it now, as if he was assessing Harry anew. "Just picture the two Horcruxes and Voldemort, then, and us destroying them."

They clasped hands once more. This time Harry followed Lucius' instructions, picturing the Cup as he had seen it during his research with Hermione and Ron, picturing Nagini and Voldemort. He imagined himself and Lucius destroying the Cup and Nagini, and finally both of them killing Voldemort. The magic circled around their hands and this time Harry could feel it, slipping into his mind, probing. Suddenly, a cord of light materialised around their hands. It glowed brightly for a moment, binding them together, before it disappeared.

Lucius opened his eyes and looked at Harry, keeping their hands clasped. Harry didn't pull away, not knowing if the binding required something else. Nothing happened, though. For the longest time Lucius just remained there, looking at him. "It's done," he finally said, but didn't move.

"May I have my hand back?" Harry asked.

"You may," Lucius said with a smile. He purposefully waited until Harry pulled his hand free.

"I don't feel any different."

"Go to Voldemort and tell him that I'm not loyal to him and you'll feel the difference to the marrow of your bones," Lucius said. "I'll leave now, but first there is something else you must know."

Harry swallowed. "What?" he asked warily.

"Voldemort decided that if you had enough time to plot his death, you weren't broken enough to suit his tastes. He'll allow Fenrir and Macnair to use you. I'm telling you this because you need to be prepared. That first night Voldemort gave you to me you almost broke. Don't try and deny it." Lucius' expression was sombre.

Harry remembered; a shudder went through him despite his best efforts. He raised his chin in defiance, expecting Lucius to taunt him, but he didn't. It increased Harry's unease.

"They'll be even more brutal. As I said earlier, there is always worse where the Dark Lord is concerned."

"Why are you telling me this?" Harry asked in a raspy voice.

"Broken, you're of no use to me. Therefore, I have a suggestion. One you will not like, but if you want to walk out of here with your mind relatively intact, it might be your only option."

"What suggestion?" Harry asked, wiping his sweating palms on his pyjama trousers.

"I could train you to take pleasure from it, to bend without breaking, regardless of what they do to you. It won't be easy to learn, but it'll come handy."

Harry huffed. "And you'll do this out of the goodness of your heart, not because of some sick desire!"

"Potter, the goodness of my heart is limited to very few individuals. You don't have the privilege of being one of them. Don't mistake alliance for friendship. Of course I'll take pleasure in it. I even admit that I'll try my best to mould you for my own purposes," Lucius said. "However, I'll make sure that you draw pleasure from it, no matter how painful or humiliating it becomes. In time, violence and pain will never again be effective weapons against you. Think about it. It's more of a choice than Voldemort will ever give you. Either you bend with my help on your own terms, or you break on his."

"I won't break," Harry said again, like he had told himself every night when he was left alone in his room. Aloud, it lacked the certainty it had in his mind.

"Maybe. Think about it. Tomorrow he will give you to Fenrir. I'll come and see you afterwards," Lucius said with a dark smile.

After Lucius left, Harry stood there for a while, at loss for what to do.

He had survived everything else. He would survive this too.

* * *

Lord Voldemort was sitting in the Manor's library, reading an obscure book about Horcruxes he had recently acquired, when Lucius came with news of the latest raid on the Ministry he had been in charge of. He walked into the room without knocking and sat down next to Lord Voldemort. With a wave of his cane, the door of the study closed.

"It's safe to say that the raid was a success," Lucius said. He leaned back on his chair with a smirk. "My informant at the Ministry tells me that Scrimgeour is at his wits' end about how to proceed. The Aurors are completely demoralised since we kidnapped their children. More than half of them have already agreed to stop fighting in exchange for their children's safety."

"Fenrir won't be too pleased with that. He was hoping they would show some backbone for once." Lord Voldemort chuckled.

"Probably not, but he'll have to content himself with those children whose parents didn't surrender. With any luck more Aurors will step down before long," Lucius said, too nonchalant. It didn't fool Lord Voldemort.

"You don't like Fenrir much, do you?" he asked, watching the other man's reactions carefully.

"I like him all right. It's just sad that he lets his instincts control him. Not all of us can have the luxury to do what we want without considering consequences." Lucius stood up and walked to the drink cabinet at the far end of the library. He poured some brandy for himself before going back to Voldemort. This time, he sat on the armchair in front of him.

"It has nothing to do with the fact that last time he almost bit dear Harry then, has it?" Lord Voldemort asked, slightly amused.

"Of course not. Besides, had he been so stupid as to bite him, he wouldn't be alive today. He knows that." Lucius reached for the book on Voldemort's lap, and after looking at him for approval, took it. He paged through it, smirking at some passages and frowning at others.

Lord Voldemort studied the other man. "You've become too protective of the boy. It worries me."

"Well, one of us has to be protective of him, and it obviously isn't you," Lucius said, closing the book and setting it aside. "I understand that you spent the last eighteen years trying to kill him, and it must be a hard habit to break, but we need him alive. Your little revenge dreams will have to wait."

"Careful with that tone, _Lucius_ ," Lord Voldemort warned him. "I could punish you should I choose."

"My apologies then," Lucius said, raising his glass in a mocking gesture that Voldemort decided to ignore. He was in too good a mood.

"How is dear Harry doing anyway? It's been some days since you last told me anything about your progress with him."

"He's doing as fine as can be expected, considering," Lucius said. "It's becoming harder to enter his mind with sex magic without getting lost inside him."

"We can't use Legilimency, though. The risk is too high."

"He's too good at Occlumency anyway," Lucius told him. "His mental barriers are impenetrable. Even during orgasm, when most people tend to lower their shields, they remain intact."

"He didn't use to be that good at it," Lord Voldemort said.

"Well, he's become excellent. Sex magic takes longer and it certainly is more risky, but the results have proven worthwhile." Lucius leaned back in his chair and licked his lips.

"How so?" the Dark Lord asked, subconsciously strengthening the privacy spell around the library.

" _The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies..._ " Lucius said, drinking in Voldemort's every reaction with his eyes.

"The prophecy," the Dark Lord whispered.

He laughed, feeling like a child who had gotten a Christmas present when none was expected. He crushed his lips to Lucius' and kissed him, ignoring the glass that fell to the floor, spilling itself on the carpet. Lucius kissed him back with the same intensity.

"Yes, the prophecy," Lucius said after they broke apart. "It took some time and careful prodding, but his mind has been opening to me during sex more and more. Imagine my surprise when I realised that the prophecy hadn't been lost, but was actually inside the boy, like a ripe fruit waiting to be plucked."

"I marked him as my equal without even meaning to," the Dark Lord said, tracing the shape of a lightning bolt on Lucius' forehead.

"It was prophesied that you would. The important thing is that I have an idea what _the power the Dark Lord knows not_ might be," Lucius smirked.

"What is it?"

The Dark Lord recognised Lucius' cruel amusement; it was like looking in a mirror. He itched for his wand, for the days when he could have cursed the other man without a second thought, but he had the prophecy now. Potter had laid himself open for his tool as he never would have done for him. It was a good bargain, even if it meant forfeiting his right to punish Malfoy.

"It's just an idea. I can't be sure without knowing exactly what happened the night you gave Potter that scar. It's not as if I could ask Potter. He knows even less. There's only so much I can piece together without your input." Lucius looked at Voldemort with a raised eyebrow.

"What do you need to know?" the Dark Lord asked after a while. He had come to a decision; either he trusted Lucius and the magic that bound them or he didn't. The magic came from him. Who could he trust if not himself?

"What happened that night? How did the boy get the first piece of your soul?" Lucius looked at him out with hungry eyes, waiting for his reply.

Voldemort hesitated, not sure if he should trust the greedy look on Lucius' face. However, he understood the reason behind it. His and Lucius' lives were too entangled. He had ordered Lucius to use sex magic to touch the boy's soul. It came with a price. You touched someone's soul and it touched you back.

"I went to make a Horcrux that night. Wormtail gave me the address. I went alone, knowing that the Potters were no match for me. Killing the father was easy. Then the mother got in the way. I should have just killed her, but… I gave her the opportunity to leave," the Dark Lord said.

He didn't tell Lucius how he had taunted her with the death of her husband and how, instead of breaking, he had seen her will to live on for her son grow stronger. She had been willing to do anything for Harry, _anything_. It had been one of the few times in his life that he had let mercy rule his actions. It had cost him dearly. She had reminded him of what his own mother should have done and hadn't, giving up just because her worthless husband had left her, as if he, her son, did no matter at all. Yet here was a woman whose son mattered to her more than her husband or even her own life. It touched something in him he wasn't even aware he possessed. He offered her the choice to leave.

"She refused. I killed her," the Dark Lord continued. "Then it was just the boy and me. He didn't look like much, this boy who would grow to have the power to kill me. I had brought with me Ravenclaw's comb, which I intended to make into a Horcrux. I thought it fitting to create the Horcrux right there, in the same house where I had killed his family. No one would come. What better place to create a Horcrux that one under the protection of Fidelius? It seemed perfect.

"I prepared everything, placing the comb beside the boy. The instant the Killing Curse left my lips I knew that something had gone terribly wrong. Time itself slowed down to witness my downfall.

"The curse hit the boy's forehead and bounced back, burning me with its force. Power slipped out of my wand into the boy. My power! He pulled it into him, swallowing me whole. It took all of my strength to break free. I only realised why it had been so difficult after it was done. I didn't just break Potter's pull. I broke free of my body too. It lay on the floor, connected to Potter by the green light of the Avada Kedavra. The curse faded until only darkness and the baby's screams remained. I tried to get back into my body, but it was dead. It wouldn't take my soul back. You know the rest," the Dark Lord finished abruptly.

"He didn't just siphon your power," Lucius said. "He siphoned the piece of your soul you meant to turn into a Horcrux as well."

"I thought you wanted to tell me something I didn't know." Lord Voldemort stood up and paced. "I've known that since I possessed the boy in the Ministry. Just like I knew then that the Diary had been destroyed and that somehow the piece of my soul that had lived inside it went into Potter as well."

"As did the piece of your soul inside Slytherin's locket. I confirmed that as well. Harry doesn't know about it, though," Lucius said. "Neither about the first piece which has lived inside him since he was a baby, nor about the other two. He believes that if one destroys a Horcrux, the soul piece in it dies too."

"Why wouldn't Dumbledore tell him the truth?"

"I don't think he knew. Horcrux magic isn't common. We as dark wizards were willing to go to great lengths to acquire the knowledge. I doubt that the old fool would have been willing to make the same sacrifices." Lucius glanced at the discarded book next to him. "He assumed that because you didn't know that the diary was destroyed you couldn't feel the destruction of the other Horcruxes. Thus he believed that the soul pieces died within the objects."

"And Potter believes this too?" the Dark Lord asked.

"Yes, he does," Malfoy assured him.

"Good. Tell me about his power." Voldemort turned around.

"He is the only one with the power to kill you," Lucius said, standing up and moving closer to him.

"Us," Voldemort corrected him. "Don't forget that your life is tied to mine in all the ways that matter."

"As if I could," Lucius snorted. "Something of the Old Magic his mother used mixed with the Avada Kedavra power and the Horcrux ritual you had started. It changed him. Harry did more than keep the piece of your soul safe as a Horcrux should. He merged with it. That is Potter's power: the one that only he possesses.

"Even now his soul is a blend of what should have been his soul and yours," Lucius continued. "When the diary was destroyed the soul in it didn't seek you as it should have because it recognised Potter's soul as yours. However, it didn't overpower Potter. It didn't even spill over into his personality. Potter swallowed it as he swallowed the first piece, as he swallowed the piece in the locket. As he would swallow all the others were he to find and destroy them. As he could swallow you were he to kill you."

"The power to vanquish the Dark Lord," Voldemort repeated absently. He remembered how it had felt to be pulled into the boy that fateful night. It was the closest he ever came to death. He remembered possessing the boy during the attack to the Ministry. The surprise of coming into Potter to find himself already there, only not himself. More than anything he remembered the desire, the painful, unbearable desire to stop fighting and let go. He wrenched himself away from the memory.

"You understand then." Lucius studied him with calculated neutrality.

"Yes, I understand perfectly," Lord Voldemort said, caressing his wand softly.

"No!" Lucius stepped in front of him. "Killing Harry isn't the solution."

"I understand that you care for the boy. It would be impossible to touch his soul and not start to care, but we must do what needs to be done: _Either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives,_ " he repeated, raising his wand.

Lucius' hand closed around his wrist, holding it in place with a grip so strong that his fingers paled. "It's not as easy as that. If he dies, you die," Lucius said. "The blending is too perfect. It's not just Potter's soul plus three pieces of yours. They are one. If you kill Potter, three pieces of your soul die with him. They will move on into the next realm, not come back to you. The moment one piece moves on the others will follow.

"First, it will be the ones you hid within objects, for souls don't cling to objects the same way they cling to living beings. But sooner or later all of them will follow, even the one inside you. If you kill him, we both die. It's not a fate I look forward to, not when there are other ways to fulfil the prophecy and remain alive. Forever."

"How?"

Lucius let go of his hand. "You let him kill you, or you kill him, just like the prophecy demands. We just need to make sure that when it does happen, it's not permanent."

Lord Voldemort bared his teeth in something that might have been a smile in anyone else. "Another Horcrux," he said.

"You already have enough. We need one for Harry," Lucius told him. "One that will protect the pieces of your soul hidden within him."

"One can never have enough Horcruxes," Lord Voldemort said, caressing Lucius' face with possessive fingers.

"Yes, one can. Seven was too high a number. You lost track of them. You stopped sensing them, and they stopped sensing you. Don't try to deny it. Your mind is open to me now too," Lucius reminded him.

"Seven is the most powerful number when it comes to immortality," Lord Voldemort said.

"Not when it comes to soul magic. Even now it still feels—"

"I'll think about it," Lord Voldemort interrupted him. Lucius might be right, but he was not ready to admit it. It gave Malfoy too much power, and they had other problems to take care of first. "How do you intent to make a Horcrux for Potter? I don't believe that it's wise to wait until he has killed me to split his soul. The risk is too high."

"Then we don't wait."

Voldemort chuckled. "I don't believe we can get the boy to kill anyone other than myself. Unless you count Severus."

"Yes, I'm sure he would love to kill him, but Snape might prove useful yet. Killing isn't the only way to split a soul, though," Lucius said, leaning forward. He licked along the Dark Lord's collarbone and up the side of his neck, until he reached his ear.

The Dark Lord's breath hitched. "I thought you didn't want to hurt the boy."

"I don't want him to die: pain is unavoidable," Lucius said, but the tone of his voice belied his words.

"The Weasley or the Mudblood?" the Dark Lord asked.

"The Mudblood," Lucius said.

"I'll set the plans in motion." The Dark Lord looked through the window at the night sky above the Malfoy gardens. "Make sure the boy is ready."

"He will be," Lucius assured him before kissing him. The magic sang in their veins as their power joined once more.

* * *

Snape entered Harry's room, his expression foreboding. Harry started, sitting up from the armchair where he had been sprawled. His muscles surged with tension as he squeezed the arms of his chair, his heart beating wildly. Snape closed the door behind him and stopped.

Harry waited. Contrary to Voldemort and the Lestranges, it had been difficult for Harry to figure out what Snape wanted from him. It wasn't pain or plain submission, although that too happened often. More than that, Harry had noticed, Snape liked it when Harry fought back, not overtly or physically, but mentally. Blind obedience just enraged Snape more.

"Here, put this on." Snape threw a bundle of clothes at Harry's feet.

Harry took it with trembling fingers, recognising it as Hogwarts' school robes. He glanced at Snape before taking off the sweat pants he was allowed to wear when alone. Harry was loath to put on the school robes, but he knew better than to defy a direct command.

Once Harry was dressed, Snape pointed his wand at him. Harry remained still, even when the red light of Snape's _Stupefy_ sped towards him. When he came back to himself he was no longer in his rooms, but in what looked remarkably similar to Snape's potions labs in Hogwarts. It wasn't though.

"Late as usual, Potter," said Draco Malfoy's voice.

Harry turned around, surprised to see the other boy. He too was wearing Hogwarts school clothes, only his were in Slytherin colours. He was thinner than the last time Harry had seen him and his eyes, even his demeanour, lacked the typical Malfoy arrogance.

Harry ignored him and looked at the door. He had never been out of his rooms since he had arrived here, except on the few occasions when Voldemort wanted to make an example of him in front of his Death Eaters. He walked to the door, unwilling to miss such an opportunity

"Where do you think you're going?" asked Draco.

"Yes, Potter, where are you going? This class is not dismissed yet." Snape's tone was scalding.

Harry froze in his tracks. He turned his head and recognised Snape's form hidden in the shadows. The Potion Master sat behind a desk on a far corner of the room, his wand carefully aimed at Harry.

"Class?" Harry asked, this time taking the time to look around.

Draco was sitting on a bench, similar to the ones they had had back at school. In a table next to him a potion brewed. Silver steam rose up from the cauldron towards the ceiling. A set of scales and knives lay on the table, and an assortment of potion ingredients cluttered the far end of the bench. Harry swallowed, his mouth dry. His chest contracted in pain at the mockery.

"As slow as usual, I see. Take your place next to Draco." Snape left the desk and strode towards Harry. "You and he are going to be partners. I expect that the potion you brew will be of the required quality. You will pay for your mistakes in blood, Potter. Thanks to the Dark Lord's generosity, I've been allowed the pleasure of teaching you as I always wanted to. This time. You. Will. Pay. Attention." Snape spat each word, but the gleam in his eyes showed that he was enjoying this.

Harry looked down, his eyes halting at the bulge of Snape's crotch.

"Want it bad, don't you, Potter?" Draco sneered behind him.

Harry ignored him. This was Snape's game and he could do nothing but play along. He glanced at the door with longing before walking back to stand next to Draco.

"What are we going to brew?" he asked.

"As disrespectful as usual, Potter," Snape said. "Mr. Malfoy, if you would be so kind?"

"With pleasure, Sir." Draco stressed the last word, looking at Harry with a smug expression. "Bend over the table, Potter, and raise your robes. Maybe after your arse has the proper shade of red it's begging for, you'll remember to respect your betters."

Harry looked at Snape first, but his glare left little doubt that disobeying would only make it worse. His face flushed deep red with shame. He didn't understand why raising his robes until his arse was exposed made him feel more vulnerable than being naked in front of dozens of Death Eaters did.

"Count," Snape ordered seconds before the first blow landed. "And remember to thank Mr. Malfoy for taking the time to discipline you," he added with a nasty smile.

It didn't hurt much, not compared to what Harry had been through in the last months. However, it irked him that Draco was the one with the paddle and that he had to remain still and take it. Harry wanted to thank Draco all right. With a punch in his haughty face. He counted aloud instead.

"Care to repeat your question now, Mr. Potter?" Snape asked after Draco finished.

Harry's arse cheeks burned, but the knowing smirk on Draco's face stopped him from rubbing his backside. He wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

"What are we going to brew, Sir?" Harry asked once more, pleased when the scorn he felt didn't show in his voice.

" _Mors Invisibilis_ ," Snape answered. "What are the properties of that potion, Potter?" Snape's yellow teeth flashed through his thin lips in obvious amusement.

Harry raised his chin and smiled back. Snape would not intimidate him. "I don't know. Sir."

Draco snickered. Harry looked at him from the corner of his eyes, wishing upon him just one single night under Fenrir's tender care. See if he would still know how to laugh afterwards. Just the idea of it filled Harry's heart with grim satisfaction.

"Draco, tell him the properties," Snape said. "Show Mr. Potter what true knowledge of Potions looks like."

Draco did, making sure to go into every tiny detail of the properties and the brewing, showing off. Harry listened, and the more Draco talked the more difficult it became to remain indifferent, when all Harry wanted to do was yell in excitement. That was it, he knew it. A plan started to form in his head.

Harry tried his best to follow Snape's instructions during the night, but Snape noticed every tiny mistake he made and used it to bait him. Harry let the words wash over him, not letting on how much it hurt him every time Snape slandered Sirius and James and belittled Harry's intelligence. Despite his best efforts to behave, Harry had to raise his robes three more times during the night and endure Draco's ruthless paddle.

Harry never once lost track of the potion brewing, though. Even as the aphrodisiac sang in his veins and he had no choice but to beg Draco to fuck him harder, his eyes remained fixed on Snape, who was filling the vials with the potion. Only after Snape had put the vials away, locking them with magic, did Harry allow the desire to engulf him. He obeyed Snape's every command no matter how distasteful, hoping for an orgasm that never came.

The next day Harry waited impatiently for the slight pain in his scar to disappear completely. Only then did he call Nilly and asked her to steal a vial of _Mors Invisibilis_ potion from Snape's work room. He told her where it was and how to get it, but not what it did. Once more she agreed to help him.

For two days Harry waited, sitting on the window-sill in his room, watching the birds fly over the Malfoy gardens. It was there that Lucius found him. Harry heard the door open, and glanced back at him shortly, before turning his gaze back to the garden.

"What's so interesting out there?" Lucius asked, stepping closer.

"Freedom."

"Well, I don't believe that's going to be on offer for some time yet. You're not nearly broken enough for the Dark Lord to let you go," Lucius said, running his fingers through Harry's hair.

Harry hated the way he leaned into the touch without conscious thought.

"And when I'm broken, will he let me go then?" Harry asked, turning his head to look at Lucius and breaking away from the caress.

Lucius didn't answer immediately. He took one of Harry's hands and turned it, brushing small circles over the serpent tattooed there. It hissed and moved under Lucius' touch as if it, too, wanted to get closer to him. Harry tugged at his hand, but Lucius' grasp on his wrist tightened.

He jerked Harry away from the window. Harry fell down, taken by surprise. Lucius pulled him up, until they were face to face and the smooth silk of Lucius' outer robes caressed Harry's bare chest with every breath he took.

" _When_ you are broken, Potter, you will not want to leave." Lucius' voice vibrated with magic. It felt like an omen.

A cold shiver went through Harry. He felt trapped between Lucius' body and the closed window, the same way he was trapped in this house, bound to the Dark Lord with magic and to Lucius through his own foolishness. He was losing himself. Harry no longer knew who he was supposed to be, how he was supposed to fight, or whom, or even why. He hated Voldemort and Snape. He hated Malfoy and Bellatrix and Fenrir and Macnair. But more than anyone, he hated himself.

"I won't break, you fucking bastard! I won't give any of you the satisfaction!" Furious, he yanked his hand free and pushed Lucius away, enjoying the way Malfoy stumbled. "Go, leave me alone. I'm not in the mood for one of your stupid lessons today. Leave!" he screamed, throwing a nearby vase at Lucius. It bounced off Lucius' protective shield and crashed on the floor.

"You are not in the mood," Lucius repeated in a tight voice. "Who do you think you are, boy? I've been too lenient with you, if you truly believe that you have any say in the matter. Consider this your next lesson in bending, Potter. You don't control anything. Not who enters or leaves this room. Not even who enters or leaves your body. Your mood means nothing."

"Fuck you!" Harry snarled, launching himself at Lucius. He wanted to beat the smug arrogance out of him, that calm demeanour that incensed Harry as nothing ever had. The pain, the fear and the humiliation of the past weeks fuelled his rage until it consumed everything.

"Oh, believe me, Potter. I will," Lucius said. He grabbed Harry's wrists in his hands before so much as a single blow could land. " _Constringo_ ," he whispered, and the tattoos on Harry's wrists came alive.

An invisible force wrested Harry's arms behind his back, binding them together. The more Harry fought against it, the more the tattoo on his neck constricted around his windpipe, cutting off his air supply. Black points swam in front of Harry's eyes. His knees sagged and he stumbled.

Lucius caught him before he hit the floor and forced him against the wall, facing the window, his back turned to Lucius. Malfoy ripped Harry's pants away, exposing him. "You like to watch freedom, don't you? Then watch it," Lucius said, grabbing a handful of Harry's hair and slamming his face against the glass.

Harry couldn't breathe. The snake around his neck kept twisting tighter and tighter. The cold window glass pressed against his face, but his eyes could not focus on anything beyond it. His lungs burned with lack of air and he didn't have enough strength to fight Lucius when he pushed one of his thighs between Harry's legs, forcing them apart.

"This is the closest you'll ever come to freedom!" Lucius pressed Harry's face harder against the window. With his other hand he freed his already hard cock and slammed it into Harry at the same instant as he ordered the tattoo on Harry's neck to loosen.

Harry gulped down the air. His body relaxed despite himself after being denied oxygen for so long, letting Lucius further in.

"That's it, Potter," Lucius mocked him. "Take my cock like you take air. You need both, slut. The only freedom you'll ever have is the one of being allowed to come after every Death Eater has had you. With time, it's the only freedom you'll crave.

"You are nothing, Potter, nothing. Just a collection of holes to be used by the Dark Lord and his chosen, by me and my chosen. Mark my words, my dear Harry, you _will_ break. We might kill Voldemort; you might even escape this jail, but it won't stop you from breaking." Lucius jerked Harry's head back until their eyes met. "The day will come when you'll seek out the next Dark Lord, and you'll prostrate yourself at his feet and you will _beg_ him to take you, to use you, to mark you."

He banged Harry's head against the window frame until blood ran down Harry's temple. "You'll beg him for pain and you'll repay his mercy with your blood, your screams and your come." Lucius' voice became more ragged as the force of his thrusts increased. "And when you're down on your knees, crying, your tears will be of joy."

Lucius' hips slapped one final time against Harry, and he came. He stood still waiting for the last spasms to pass as spurt after spurt of his come filled Harry's arse. Finally, he let go of Harry's hair, pulling out of him and stepping back.

Without Lucius holding him in place Harry collapsed on his knees, letting the wall support part of his weight. Blood and come leaked down his thighs.

Harry swallowed the tears wanting to break free. He hated that no matter how often he was used like this it always took him by surprise. There was no getting used to the helplessness and the humiliation. Every time felt like the first.

Lucius watched Harry with indifference as he tucked himself away. Once he was done, he walked towards Harry and kicked him away from the wall. Harry fell to the floor, unable to stand up.

Lucius forced him to roll on his back with one of his boots. "You control nothing, Potter. It'd be in your best interest to learn this lesson well, for I wouldn't mind repeating it if you prove too slow a student."

Lucius vanished the last remains of Harry's clothes with his wand. He forced Harry's legs open with his foot, before straddling his knees. With a possessive hand, he caressed Harry's inner thighs, smearing his fingers with his own come. He grabbed Harry's cock and stroked it to hardness with a merciless grip that brought almost as much pain as pleasure.

Harry didn't want to react, but Lucius knew his body too well. Harry's cock jerked in Lucius' hand and the other man snorted.

"At least a part of you knows its proper place in life."

Harry averted his eyes, unable to bear the truth hidden in Lucius' words. Freak, he thought, and for the first time since he'd been eleven the word rang true.

Lucius murmured a few words in a language Harry didn't recognise as his hand moved up and down Harry's cock. It was all Harry could do to stop himself from moving, from giving in to the desire to fuck himself in Lucius' hand.

"You'll stay like this, burning up with desire and shame, unable to come," Lucius whispered. His hand tightened and loosened around Harry at random intervals. Harry bit his lips, trying to stop his panting. He balled his hands into fists, muscles surging with tension in his effort to remain still.

"I could keep touching you; I could bring every Death Eater in the mansion and tell them to spread you open and fuck you, and you would let them, not because I ordered you to, but because you'd be desperate to come and anything would be better than the emptiness inside. Isn't it so, my dear Harry?" Lucius asked.

Harry shook his head, eyes closed, trying to block away Lucius' words. The truth in them.

"Isn't it so?" Lucius asked again, tightening his grip on Harry's cock while the fingers of his other hand caressed Harry's torn opening.

Instead of pain, that simple touch sent a flare of desire through Harry that made his toes curl. He couldn't help the moan that escaped him.

"I asked you something, Harry," Lucius said, moving the hand on Harry's cock faster, and the finger in his arse deeper.

"Please" Harry begged. It felt like breaking.

"What if I leave now as you wanted?"

Lucius' hands left him and Harry whimpered at the sudden loss. "Please."

Lucius smiled. He took one of Harry's hands and pried its fingers open. Then, he closed them around Harry's cock and guided Harry's hand up and down until Harry started to move the hand on his own, desperate with desire, unable to control himself.

"Yes, that's a good boy." Lucius let go of Harry's hand and moved closer to him. "Look at you, such a pretty slut," Lucius murmured in Harry's ear. "Touch yourself and think about how much you enjoy being used like the whore you are. You are nothing, Potter, nothing. Come on, say it!"

"No," Harry moaned.

"You will say it, my dear Harry, or you won't come. How long do you think a slut like you can last before desire overcomes dignity? Whores have no pride," Lucius said, "just hunger and lust and desire. The sooner you admit it, the sooner it will be over. Come on, say it. What are you?"

"Please," Harry sobbed.

"Say it!"

"Nothing. I'm nothing!" Tears of shame and frustration welled in Harry's eyes and ran down his face. He was on the edge of coming, or breaking, or dying. He didn't know what would be the greater mercy.

"That's it, just a bit more. Give me more." Lucius licked Harry's ear before moving away. He spread Harry's legs further apart and pushed Harry's knees up to his chest, leaving him open and vulnerable. He took Harry's other hand and shoved three of its fingers into Harry's arse, forcing Harry to follow the frantic rhythm his other hand was setting.

"That's it! Fuck yourself. Show me how badly you want to come. You just had me up your arse but it was not enough, was it, Potter? Should I call the others? Maybe they'll help you out."

"No... Please... please" Harry begged, but his fingers moved faster, deeper. His other hand became rougher, until he was causing himself as much pain as Lucius had before. It distracted him from the excruciating ache in his cock. Harry arched into his own hand and back into his fingers, crying in desperation. "Please."

"You're a whore, Potter, say it!"

"A whore, I'm a whore!" Harry wrenched out the words, and still he could not come.

"The curse doesn't quite work like that," Lucius said in a rough voice. "You have to believe it, truly believe it. Until you don't, you'll stay here, hungry for cock and hands and mouths, unable to satisfy that hunger with anything. Say it, Potter, and mean it."

"I'm whore. I'm a whore," Harry repeated, fucking himself harder still. It went on forever. "I can't! I can't. Oh, Merlin, please!"

"Yes, you can. It's what you are. Keep on saying it until you believe it," Lucius ordered and Harry, beyond reason or control or pride, obeyed.

"I'm a whore." He sobbed it and he screamed it under Lucius' watchful eyes, while he fucked himself for Lucius' amusement, unable to tell pain from pleasure any longer.

All the while Lucius kept talking. "Maybe I should call Macnair, or Bellatrix. No Dark Lord to stop them when they go too far. By the time they're done with you, you'd believe it, Potter. Or maybe you'd prefer Fenrir when the full moon is out? I could call him and he'd take you as his bitch, fuck you in his wolf-form until you're bleeding from every hole in your body. Then, he'd tear you open with his teeth and fuck you some more, before discarding you for the rest of his pack to use. You'd be their bitch and you'd love it, wouldn't you? Whore!"

Harry came with an intensity that surpassed anything he'd ever felt before, his words echoing Lucius'. _Whore._ Shoot after shoot of his own come hit his face. It was everywhere, in his eyes, his hair, his cheeks, his mouth. It trickled down his neck and ears. The stink and the bitter taste of it smothered him. Whore. This time, Harry believed it.

When he finally could move again Lucius was long gone. Harry hadn't heard him leave. He crawled to the bathroom, feeling every ache in his body. He lay there under the cold water and let it wash over him. He felt more broken than he'd ever done after having left Voldemort's bed, which had probably been Lucius' intention. Harry hated that he had let him win so easily.

Whore. The word repeated itself over and over at the back of his mind.

He left the shower and walked to the mirror on the other wall. He looked at himself and couldn't recognise the person who looked back. There were dark circles under his eyes and his skin was pale. His face was that of a man, not a boy. It reflected the last months he had spent as a prisoner.

Every encounter with Voldemort or his Death Eaters, every lesson Lucius had so _graciously_ taught him, was there to see. Voldemort might have forbidden anyone to mark him permanently, but the marks were there all the same. Harry could read each and every one.

"Whore," he said to his image in the mirror. Even the rough whisper that his voice had become was foreign to him.

"You certainly look like one," the mirror countered. "A well used one at that. Don't let it get to you, dear. There are worse professions. A whore can accomplish much."

"Like what? Learning how to spread oneself wider?" Harry grunted, barely controlling the urge to smash the mirror.

"Only if that's what the customer wants, love. I've seen courtesans come and go from this Manor over the centuries. I've also seen courtesans that came and stayed. The good ones. I might be only a mirror, but I've been a mirror for longer than you've been alive. I've seen things that you couldn't even imagine. There is much power in sex, love. And it flows both ways.

"I like you. It's been a long time since I was last used. If it weren't for you I would still be alone, waiting uselessly. A mirror has its pride, like everything else. You might not be a Malfoy, but my first Lady was not one either, and that didn't stop her from becoming one. There are things I could teach you, love, if you'd let me. Secrets, long forgotten by wizards, which I still remember."

Harry looked at himself in the mirror. Could he trust it? It was odd. His gut-feeling told him he could, but then again, that might be because the mirror was wearing _his_ face.

"Tell me," Harry said at last.

And the mirror did.

Hours later he walked back to his bed. A handwritten note lay on his nightstand. _'I will see you tomorrow. And Harry, be sure to be in the mood.'_ It wasn't signed. It didn't need to be. Harry crushed the paper in his hand and threw it away.

There was no point denying it. He did what whores did. He had sex, not because he wanted to, but to survive. And survive he would.

If being a whore was what he needed to be, a whore he would become. He would escape Voldemort and Lucius and this place. By the time he left, there would be a million more invisible scars behind his eyes, and he might never be the same person again, but he would not be broken.

"Don't worry, Lucius. I will be," he told the empty room. That night, for the first time since he was captured, his dreams were not plagued by nightmares.

The next day Nilly came. Her hands and arms were bandaged from where she had ironed them. She cried inconsolably as she told Harry that she couldn't get into Snape's potions cabinet. It was warded against intruders and even though she had tried, the magic that bound her to the Malfoys stopped her from violating the privacy of guests protected by the Manor itself. There was nothing she could do. Harry tried his best not to show his disappointment.

In the back of his mind, the mirror's voice became stronger.

The next time Fenrir came into his room, Harry looked him in the eye and leaned back against the headboard, letting the sheets slide down his naked body in a seemingly casual move. The tiny hitch in Fenrir's breath felt like a victory. Harry spread himself open, relishing the almost drunken way in which Fenrir approached the bed, eyes fixed on Harry's arse as his nostrils flared.

Later that evening, Harry tightened his arse around Fenrir's cock of his own volition and whispered roughly into Fenrir's ear where he wanted the knife to cut next. And Fenrir obeyed him.

Harry ignored the sharp pain of the knife to concentrate on Fenrir's wild eyes and panting breaths. The werewolf was lost in his pleasure; his mind and soul open to Harry. Only then did Harry understand what the mirror had tried to tell him.

In sex, the one shedding the blood was not necessary the one in control.

* * *

Severus and Lucius were walking together towards the dinning room, talking in low voices when the Dark Lord found them. "Lucius, my friend, there you are. Come with me. We have things to discuss."

"Of course. Severus, if you'd excuse me. We'll continue our conversation later," Lucius said to Snape, dismissing him. Snape's black eyes narrowed and his lips thinned, but he strode away without comment.

Voldemort and Lucius walked in comfortable silence towards the Dark Lord's chambers. Once there Voldemort hissed the password to the snake warding the door and waited for it to open. He signalled Lucius to go in first and followed close behind. Inside, he closed the door and strengthened the room's privacy wards.

"You should treat Severus more carefully," the Dark Lord said. "He's already suspicious about why I forgave you so soon after you came back from Azkaban."

"It's Snape. He's suspicious by nature." Lucius caressed the snakehead of his cane as he spoke. "What is he going to do? Come to you with tales about me? You'd know he was lying."

"It'd be better if you didn't become overconfident of your place, my friend. My plans for you would be useless were someone to find out about you. If that happens, your _life_ as it is today is forfeited," the Dark Lord warned him.

"Duly noted." Lucius bowed his head in mock obedience.

"Let's hope so."

"What did you want to talk about?" Lucius asked the Dark Lord while he summoned two glasses and a bottle of Dream-Cognac with a lazy wave of his cane. He poured the cognac into the glasses and handed one to Voldemort.

They toasted. As their glasses touched their magic mixed with the cognac, tailoring its flavour to their preferences.

"Dear Harry, of course." Voldemort sat down in one of the chairs in front of the fireplace. Lucius took the other without waiting to be asked. "How are things progressing?"

"Faster than I expected, actually," Lucius said and took a sip from his glass. "Our last encounters have been remarkable. I thought he was already breath-taking when in pain, but he's even more beautiful when he takes it willingly and begs for more. He was born to submit. It's a pity that it'll take you some time to find out what it's like to have him willing."

The Dark Lord swirled the cognac in his snifter. "I don't mind that he hates it. It makes it all the sweeter," he said.

"That's what I thought too, but it's so much better to have dear Harry defiling himself for my pleasure because he _wants_ to. He doesn't even need coercing any longer."

"Well, you're certainly not the only one the boy has been spreading his legs for willingly." Voldemort scrutinized Lucius' reaction. He was not disappointed when Lucius' face darkened and his eyes narrowed. Potter was ensnaring Lucius more than Lucius was ensnaring him. It bore careful monitoring. Too much was at stake.

"Who?" Lucius voice was as sharp as a knife.

"Fenrir."

"Impossible! Harry fears him even more than he fears you!" Lucius stood up. His forgotten glass of cognac hovered in the air, trailing after him as he paced.

"Really, my friend, the fact that you can't keep your whore controlled does not give you the right to become offensive," Lord Voldemort said, but his eyes betrayed his amusement. It should have angered him that Lucius was capable of feeling something as mundane as jealousy for Potter, and yet it didn't.

"How did you find out?" Lucius asked. He walked back to his chair and sat down.

"Fenrir told me." The Dark Lord said. "Apparently the last times he's had the boy, dear Harry has been most willing. Fenrir seems to share your opinion that Potter is never prettier than when he's begging for pain of his own free will. Dear Harry is very persuasive when he wants to be, it looks like."

Lucius remained quiet. His brow creased in thought as he tried to understand the possible reasons for Potter's odd behaviour. "Did you punish him?" Lucius asked at last.

"Potter?"

"No, Fenrir," Lucius spat.

"Any reason why I should have?" the Dark Lord asked, swirling the cognac once more before taking another sip.

"He told you that Harry was willing the last times, plural, he went to him. Yet he waited until today to let you know. That's unacceptable!" Lucius balled his hands into fists.

"What makes you think he told me today? I've known for some time now. Fenrir was not sure at the beginning whether Potter had been under the influence of one of Severus' potions still. We agreed that he should visit Harry again to make sure it wasn't a fluke. Potter's willingness seems to be genuine."

The Dark Lord sipped at his glass with feigned nonchalance. "Is something the matter, my friend? You seem quite agitated."

"Nothing's the matter. It just doesn't make sense. The boy is terrified of Fenrir. There's something the wolf isn't telling you."

"Or there is something Potter isn't telling _you_."

"Impossible!" Lucius said. "He wouldn't keep secrets from me. He thinks me his ally. Besides, he has nothing to gain from letting Fenrir fuck him. The wolf would never betray us. What could he possibly want?"

"Apparently, he missed playing with knives." The Dark Lord took the black dagger Fenrir had given him out of his robe and handed it to Lucius.

Lucius took it with a blank expression. He turned the dagger in his hand and unsheathed it, watching the light catch on its blade. "Knives," he murmured to himself. Then he sheathed the blade and tucked it away under his robes.

"What do you make of it?" the Dark Lord asked after a while.

"I can't tell yet. I'll have to confront him about it. Did he ask for something else?"

"No, he didn't," Voldemort said. "Fenrir let me into his mind," he added, anticipating Lucius' protests.

"Did he enjoy it?" Lucius asked, eyes fixed on his drink.

"Fenrir? Of course he did."

"Not him. Harry. Did he enjoy it?"

"Why does it matter?" Lord Voldemort inquired with a raised eyebrow.

"It matters to me," Lucius said, meeting Voldemort's eyes.

"Yes, he did." The Dark Lord was surprised when a pang of regret brushed through him. It had been so long since he had last felt that emotion that it took him some time to recognise it. It would take him even longer to admit to himself that he had missed it.

"He's never asked," Lucius muttered.

"Excuse me."

"Harry. He has never asked me for anything he'd like to do in bed," Lucius explained. "It's me who decides what we'll be doing. I've never asked him if there was something that he would like to do."

"Nor should you. He's just a tool, our tool. What he wants matters nothing," Voldemort said.

"Just as my wants matter nothing, for I am a tool, too. You've been very clear on that." Lucius glared at him. Then he raised his glass in a mock toast and drank its content in one gulp.

"There's no need to be bitter about it. You can't compare yourself to the boy," Voldemort said, a corner of his lips moving up.

"Can't I?"

"You, I let roam free. The boy is kept in his room and watched closely. Please don't make me doubt your loyalty. You wouldn't like the consequences."

"I _am_ loyal. I've been loyal even though I have more than enough reasons not to be. Loyalty does not equal blindness, though. I know what I'm to you: a tool, albeit a useful one, but a tool nonetheless."

"Then see that you remain useful. If you want to indulge Harry, be my guest. I won't stand in your way. But be careful. He's up to something. Are you sure you don't know anything about it?" Voldemort asked.

"If I knew, I would tell you. Do you truly doubt me?" Lucius' hand tightened on his cane.

"No, of course not," Voldemort answered. He knew that Lucius _couldn't_ betray him. He just didn't trust anyone, not even himself.

"We could always risk Legilimency to find out if Harry is up to something, or if he just missed the sharp kiss of the knife, as he claims," Lucius said. "He's a good Occlumens, but if you did it yourself, he couldn't fight you."

"No!" Voldemort shuddered at the memory of what it had been like to be inside the boy's mind during the attack to the Ministry. Pain as he had never felt before, worse than the darkest of magic. Unbearable, unstoppable. Touching the boy's mind was like touching death.

"No. Leave his mind alone. Beat the information out of him; fuck it out of him. Cajole him into telling you. I don't care how you do it, but don't touch his mind," he ordered.

Lucius raised his chin imperceptibly.

"Do. Not. Touch. His. Mind," Voldemort said again, inching forward.

Lucius huffed, before relaxing back into his chair. "Very well, then. As you wish. Don't worry. I'll find out what Harry is plotting. It shouldn't be all that difficult. The boy is too much a Gryffindor for his plans to be all that cunning." Malfoy's arrogance was so perfect that it looked more like muscle memory than intent.

"Don't underestimate him, Lucius. It has cost us dearly."

"Yes, it has," Lucius conceded. "But I wouldn't be here if it weren't for that. You might think it worse, but I like things much more as they are now." He stood up and left.

"You would at that," Voldemort said, looking at the closed door.

* * *

Dobby. The thought came unbidden to Harry in the middle of the night. He opened his eyes, sleepiness gone, furious with himself for not having thought about it sooner. That night he couldn't go back to sleep.

"Nilly, you need to contact Dobby and ask him to help you steal the potion from Snape's cabinet," Harry told the little house-elf the next day.

"Master Potter, Nilly is not being able to tell anyone where Master Potter is, not even other house-elves," she said, twisting the hem her pillowcase between her small fingers.

"I know that." Harry tried to hide his exasperation. "You don't need to tell him about me. Just convince him to come into the Manor and steal the potion for you. He knows this house and he's free. He'll manage to do it."

She remained perfectly still for a moment. Then she flapped her ears very fast and looked at Harry out of wide, excited eyes. "Nilly is doing it, Master Harry. Dobby is owing Nilly many favours. She's convincing him to steal the potion for her. I is coming to you as soon as I have it." Without waiting for a reply, she popped away with a soft snap of her fingers.

When Lucius arrived later that day, Harry was tempted to tell him of his plan. The magic of the vow urged him to, but Harry fought it. Dobby could be the key to escaping later on. It was the one thing Lucius had been clear about. He would help Harry kill the Dark Lord, but he wouldn't help him escape.

"Lord Voldemort contacted me," Lucius said, coming into the room. He took off his coat and placed it on the chair at the foot of Harry's bed. "Fenrir told him about your odd behaviour. What are you playing at, Harry?"

"The game you taught me, Lucius." Harry swallowed his anger. When dealing with Malfoy it was best to counter indifference with indifference. Anger laid Harry too open. It revealed too much.

He stepped into Lucius' personal space, placing kisses alongside his jaw. "You said it yourself; I'm nothing but a whore. It has been a useful lesson. I want to thank you for it." Harry started to open the buttons of Lucius' robes with his fingers, licking softly over each inch of newly exposed skin.

Lucius caught Harry's hands in a death grip, stopping him from going further down. "Don't." He pushed Harry away and took a step back.

Harry smiled at him, lowering his eyelids coyly. He glanced up from between the long bangs of his hair, savouring how flustered Lucius looked. Malfoy's breath was ragged and even his thick robes couldn't hide the bulge between his legs. It was almost too easy.

Harry regretted that it had taken him so long to get over his fear and shame to realise that sex was his only weapon and he should take advantage of it.

"What's the matter, Lucius? Isn't that what you wanted? Me accepting that I'm a whore; _believing it_. I do now."

Harry slid his hand over his chest and caressed his nipples before sliding his fingers further down. He hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his pants. Slowly he pulled them down, watching Lucius all the time through veiled eyes. When he was completely naked, he started to stroke his semi-hard cock to full hardness, making sure to pick the rhythm that Lucius liked for himself.

"Stop it!" Lucius took one step forward and froze. He fastened his eyes on Harry's cock and the slow motion of his hand around it.

Harry stopped in mid-stroke, but didn't take his hand away as he waited for Lucius' next command.

"Get on the bed," Lucius ordered in a rough voice.

Harry obeyed without hurry. He crawled over the footboard, making sure that his arse was raised as he moved over it. He held still for a second, thrusting his hips slightly forward when his cock grazed over the smooth wood frame. He did it again, once, twice, before continuing. When he reached the headboard he turned around until he was facing Lucius. He spread his legs widely, letting his knees drop to the sides, giving Lucius a perfect view of his crotch and arse.

"Raise your arms. Keep hold of the bed frame and don't you dare let go," Lucius told him.

Harry's blood pounded in his ears as he obeyed. His cock hardened even more, although he was not touching it. He thrust half-way into the air, seeking a contact that was not there, enjoying the ripple of pleasure that went through him as the muscles in his thighs and arse contracted.

Lucius started to strip. His hands opened the buttons of his robes with calculated precision, showing more and more of his skin. Harry's mouth watered when the other man finally dropped the last layers of his clothes to the floor, exposing his already hard cock.

Harry didn't feel as much in control as before, too taken by the desire overwhelming him. The magic inside him sang with need, and he recognised the telltale rush as his soul opened itself, yearning to be touched the same way his body did.

Harry forced himself to not give in. It hadn't been like this with Fenrir or even with Bellatrix or Macnair. With them it had been Harry directing the magic, calling the power. He should have known that it would be different with Lucius. With him it had always been more than just sex.

It should have bothered Harry that Lucius had been using soul magic, but by now he knew that, like Voldemort, Lucius just took what he wanted. It was his nature. Harry should have foreseen it.

Lucius climbed on top of Harry, covering Harry's mouth with his own. Harry opened himself for the kiss, not holding anything back. When Lucius' soul touched the edges of his, instead of fighting it, Harry welcomed it. However, by the time they were both sweaty and panting, covered in come and bite marks, lying exhausted next to each other, Harry had still not managed to unmask any of Lucius' secrets. He was sure that Lucius hadn't been any more successful than he had.

Lucius didn't say anything, even though he must have noticed Harry touching his soul the way that Harry had noticed him touching his. They looked at each other in a silent dare. Lucius laughed, heartfelt and open. He kissed Harry again and opened his soul for him.

Harry took the invitation, submerging himself in Lucius the same way Lucius had submerged himself in him. It felt like looking into the Mirror of Erised, like finding his heart's desire. Like home.

"I should have known that you wouldn't be fooled for long," Lucius said much later.

Harry lay sprawled over the other man's chest. One of his legs was thrown carelessly over Lucius' thighs. Lucius played with the hairs on Harry's nape, sending delicious shivers down Harry's spine. Harry contented himself with running his fingers through the fine line of white hairs going from Lucius' navel towards his cock.

"How long have you been using sex magic to touch my soul?" Harry asked.

"I'd rather find out since when do you know how to use sex magic?" Lucius said.

Harry snorted. "That'd be telling. Besides, I asked first."

"Since the beginning," Lucius answered him. "I needed to find out your reasons for allying yourself with me."

"I told you what my reasons were." Harry was still too caught up in the afterglow to feel real anger.

"How was I supposed to know that you would actually tell me the truth? It's not normal," Lucius mumbled.

Harry smiled, letting his fingers trail a further down. "For an untrustworthy Slytherin like you maybe. I suppose it's safe to assume that you're lying to me then."

"Hmm, pretty much, yes," Lucius said. "You'll have to figure it out for yourself, I'm afraid."

"Of course." Harry rolled his eyes. "Why did you continue using sex magic after you knew that I was telling the truth?"

"I didn't know how to stop," Lucius murmured after Harry had started to drift off, thinking that no answer would come.

Harry didn't need soul or sex magic to know that it was the truth. The power of it was too addicting. Even now, Harry wasn't sure that he could give it up once he was free. It should have scared him, but it was the only weapon he had left. He would do what needed to be done.

"You're still faithful to him, aren't you?" Harry asked.

"I want to see Lord Voldemort dead as much as you do, if not more," Lucius told him. "We've been over that already."

"There is something you're not telling me. Don't deny it. I could see the secrets lurking in your soul," Harry said, but he was not as bothered by it as he should have been.

"As I could see the secrets lurking in yours. Yet you don't see me whining. I have my secrets and you have yours. I will do my best to figure yours out. I invite you to do the same. Consider it a challenge," Lucius said.

"I don't understand why you'd serve him." It had always baffled Harry. "You're nothing to him, just another pureblood among dozens of purebloods stupid enough to bind himself to him. Voldemort stole my life; you gave yours away for free."

Lucius laughed out loud. It was so far away from the reaction Harry had been expecting that for a moment he didn't know what to do.

"What's so funny?" he asked, eying Lucius warily.

"Nothing, everything. It's hard to admit after all these years, but the Dark Lord's could have used someone like you among his followers."

"Oh, please," Harry snorted. "He's killed every Death Eater who has dared to defy him, not that there've been that many."

"I wouldn't be so sure. You're still alive."

"I'm not a Death Eater," Harry sputtered.

"You're bonded to him with virgin blood, pain, sex and magic." Lucius caressed the tattoo on Harry's neck with one finger. The snake hissed and moved in obvious pleasure. "There's nothing more powerful."

"It'll take more than a forced bond to make me serve him. If he thinks that these make me his follower," Harry looked at the ugly, black tattoos on his wrists, "he's thoroughly mistaken. For all that he believes himself so great a wizard he can be rather dim-witted at times."

"It's a good thing that the Dark Lord is merciful when it comes to you. Were you anybody else, calling him dim-witted would get you killed faster than you can say Quidditch," Lucius murmured in Harry's ear, biting his earlobe softly. Gooseflesh formed down Harry's arms and back.

"Well, it's not like I would call him that to his face."

"I was under the impression that you hadn't learned respect for your betters yet," Lucius said.

"It's not respect; just knowing which battles to pick. Besides, I have respect for my betters. Lord Voldemort just doesn't happen to be one of them."

"I should punish you for that comment," Lucius whispered as his mouth travelled down Harry's neck towards his collarbone.

"Probably, but there are other much interesting ways in which you could hurt me," Harry said, unable to help his blush.

"I don't believe it would have quite the same effect if you look so forward to it." Lucius pinched Harry's left nipple, rolling it between thumb and forefinger. He straddled Harry's hips until he lay flush over Harry's body, covering him. His long, blond hair caressed Harry's arms and chest, sending chills down his spine.

"And here I thought that this thing between us was just an exercise in teaching me precisely how to look forward to it?" Harry told him, gasping for breath.

"Ah, there is that, I suppose." Lucius turned them around until Harry was lying on top of him. "Then show me. Tell me how you want to be hurt. What lesson will be enough to teach you respect?"

"I will need more than just the one." Harry draped his body over Lucius and licked the sweat off the hollow of Lucius' throat.

"I don't see why that should be a problem."

Afterwards, Harry accompanied Lucius to the door and kissed him goodbye. If his heart beat a tiny bit faster and his kiss lingered a tiny bit more, neither commented on it. Lucius promised in a heated whisper interrupted by kisses that he would come back the next day. Harry looked forward to it.

* * *

Lord Voldemort sat on the impromptu dais the house-elves had built on the ground just before the Malfoy gardens gave way to the forest. His Death Eaters were there as well in separated booths. His own booth was spelled so as to stop others from seeing or hearing anything that went on inside. The Dark Lord watched amused as Lucius dragged Potter through the gardens towards the dais. It had taken time, but finally the boy had learned to fear a gathering of Death Eaters.

Voldemort caressed Potter's wand with his fingers. Its magic called to him. It felt like his own wand and different at the same time. The booth's door opened and Potter was shoved in by Lucius. The boy looked warily at him before remembering to lower his eyes.

"My Lord, how may I serve you?" Lucius' words were just this side of mocking. The Dark Lord looked at Lucius warningly, and the other man bowed his head, but not soon enough to hide the smirk gracing his lips from Voldemort.

"I'll let you know," the Dark said, choosing to ignore Lucius' behaviour. "Potter, I have a present for you." He stood up and approached the boy. He traced the scar on Potter's forehead with the tip of Potter's wand, waiting for the moment when Potter's eyes widened in recognition. The boy licked his dry lips, his eyes not leaving his wand once. "Yes, it's your wand, Potter, still intact even. Would you like to have it back?"

"Yes, but I'm sure it won't be worth the price you set." Potter tore his eyes away from the wand and looked at him instead. He managed to hide his longing almost completely, but not quite.

Lord Voldemort laughed, impressed. Not much remained of the naïve boy Potter had been when he first was captured. The innocence had been ripped away. Potter had never been more attractive in the Dark Lord's eyes.

"The night is still young. Here, learn this spell." Lord Voldemort handed Harry a piece of paper, on which he had carefully written the words of the required spell in Parseltongue.

The Dark Lord watched avidly as Harry glanced over the words, still looking at him from the corner of his eyes. He raised his hand and Potter shrank back, his whole body tensing. Lord Voldemort smiled. "Not tonight, dear Harry. Tonight no harm will come to you from me or anyone. The entertainment will be provided by someone else. Look."

He pointed a long, white finger to the edge of the forest and disabled the invisibility charm protecting it. Hermione Granger stood there, completely naked, shackled with iron chains and illuminated by the clear light of the full moon. In the shadows around her only the bright, yellow eyes of Fenrir's werewolf pack could be seen as they waited in the darkness for Voldemort's command.

"No." Harry's voice broke. He stepped closer to the railing, his whole body shaking. The paper fell to the floor as his hands clutched the top rail so hard that the wood cracked. "What do you want?" Harry asked with his eyes still fixed on the Mudblood.

"I already told you." Voldemort levitated the paper from the floor until it hovered in front of Harry's face. "Learn the spell."

Harry tore the paper from the air, opening it with trembling fingers. This time all his attention was on the words. His lips move silently as he mumbled the words to himself. When Harry finally looked up at Voldemort his face was stripped of all protective barriers. Potter's despair was so deep it was almost tangible.

"What is the spell for?" Harry asked.

"Does it really matter?" Lord Voldemort went back to his chair and signalled for Lucius and Harry to sit down as well. Lucius did so immediately.

"Yes, it does," Harry said, not moving from where he stood. His face was as pale as the moon.

"Too bad then. Here." Voldemort threw Potter's wand at him. "In case you change your mind. Sit down; the festivities are about to begin." He cast a red spark of light in the air with his own wand and watched with satisfaction as the circle of werewolves started to close in on the girl.

" _Stupefy_!"

A derisive smile grazed Lord Voldemort's lips as he turned his head to look at Potter.

" _Sectumsempra_! _Reducto_!" Potter's wand was aimed at the Dark Lord as he cast curse after curse.

The Dark Lord's smile deepened and changed, becoming more genuine until even his red eyes were bright with amusement. "Really, Harry. This is uncalled for. Did you truly believe that I'd give you back your wand if it could cast any spells other than the one I chose? Now, sit!"

The boy's legs sagged and invisible hands pushed him into his chair. Then, Voldemort summoned Potter's wand back to himself. "Let me know when you decide to comply. Until then you'll remain quiet." He waved his wand and Harry's lips sealed themselves, his mouth merging with the skin of his face. Potter's eyes widened as he breathed anxiously through his nose. Any protest he would have tried to make was interrupted by a piercing scream from the girl. Harry froze and turned his head back to the field.

Fenrir was already closing on Granger, sniffing the air around her. The Mudblood had stopped screaming. The chains around her ankles lit up with a soft green glow, betraying her fruitless attempts at wandless magic. It impressed Voldemort that she had enough presence of mind to remember the proper spells when he had seen fully trained Aurors black out in fear under the same circumstances. Harry knew how to pick his friends, it seemed, despite the girl's regrettable background. The Dark Lord glanced at Potter, who had leaned forward as much as the chair allowed him. It was as if he wanted to take Granger's place. He probably did.

Fenrir's teeth flashed in the moonlight as he sat back on his hind legs and howled. The other wolves did the same. Fenrir advanced towards Granger and pushed his snout between her legs, sniffing at her. Granger tried uselessly to push the wolf's head away, tearing at his ears and raking her nails through his fur. Fenrir just growled in the back of his throat, pushing his snout further in as he started to lick her. Her breath hitched in her throat. The amplifying charms carried the sounds so that they could be heard by all.

Potter inhaled ragged breaths through his nose as tears welled in his eyes. Lucius observed carefully each of Harry's reactions, oblivious to Fenrir and the girl. Lord Voldemort moved forward, closing his hand over Lucius'. He stroked the other man's wrist softly until Lucius looked at him, his eyes lost.

"You may leave," the Dark Lord whispered to him. Lucius shook his head. He closed his eyes and took a deep, calming breath before opening them again. When he did, his face only showed perfect detachment.

Lord Voldemort didn't say anything, but he looked pointedly at Lucius' hand, which gripped his cane as if his life depended on it. Lucius followed the Dark Lord's gaze. He forced the fingers of his hands to relax one by one and offered the cane to Voldemort. It was as far an admission of grief as he would ever allow himself, the Dark Lord knew.

Lord Voldemort took the cane without comment and vanished it. "If you change your mind—"

"I won't." Lucius looked back at Potter, who hadn't moved an inch.

Back on the field, Fenrir was still licking Granger. Lord Voldemort liked to imagine that by now she must be torn between disgust, fear and pleasure. The other wolves were closing in, too, nuzzling her bare chest and arms, forcing her down on her back, holding her still with their weight. She still fought, but only managed to grind her pelvis into Fenrir's nose even further.

Fenrir stopped for a second, turning his yellow eyes to look at the Dark Lord. His tongue sagged in his mouth, wet with saliva and the girl's juices. Lord Voldemort nodded slightly and Fenrir went back to the girl. Slowly, so very slowly, he closed his mouth around one of Granger's inner thighs. The moonlight illuminated him as his fangs grazed her skin before they went deeper still, until blood ran down her thigh and into the ground.

"No!" Potter lurched in his chair as if he was the one being bitten.

"Are you willing to do the spell now?" the Dark Lord asked, knowing that Potter's desperation had to be reaching its limits if he had managed to break Voldemort's jinx in order to speak.

"What is it for?" Harry asked again, looking at him. His green eyes were clouded with despair and hopelessness. Lord Voldemort wondered why he hadn't thought of doing this before. It was breaking the boy faster than any other torture ever had.

"Why Harry, I thought it was obvious. It stops your girlfriend from being eaten alive. It's up to you how much she suffers."

"Do what he wants, Harry," Lucius besought from behind Voldemort.

Harry looked at Malfoy in surprise, as if only now remembering that the other man was there too. "I can't," he said.

Seconds later Granger screamed again as the teeth of the other wolves bit into her flesh as well. Potter turned to look at her. His body shook so hard that the chair under him rattled against the wooden floor. Harry hugged himself and his fingernails dug cruelly into the flesh of his upper arms.

"Harry, please." Lucius walked to the boy and knelt behind his chair. He pried Potter's fingers away from his arms, holding Harry's hands with his own as he hugged the boy from behind, ignoring the backrest separating them. "Don't do this to yourself. Do you want her to die?"

"No." Harry's voice failed and he gave a desperate, broken cry, before turning on the chair and hiding his head against Lucius' collarbone. Lucius stroked his hair and his back, whispering soothing nonsense as the boy sobbed. Malfoy looked at Voldemort pointedly.

Lord Voldemort levitated Potter's wand until it was within Lucius' reach. Malfoy took it and placed it into Harry's right hand, closing the boy's fingers around it. "Do it, Harry. It's just a spell. You'll spare her such a gruesome death. Please, Harry. I can't see you suffer like this. Please. Say it."

And to Lord Voldemort's amazement, Potter actually did. At first it was just an incoherent whisper, constantly interrupted by Harry's sobs. It didn't work, of course. Lucius turned the boy around, until he was looking at Granger once more.

She had been forced onto her hands and knees and was being mounted by Fenrir. The wolf's hips thrust into her. Short, hard, fast thrust that rocked her whole body. Fenrir's low growls mixed with the girl's muffled, pained cries. Granger's arms failed her and she fell, her face grinding into the dirty grass again and again as Fenrir drove in and out of her ruthlessly.

"Come on, Harry," Lucius coerced, guiding Harry's hand through the movements needed for the spell to work. "Say the words. You can do it. It's just magic. You've done it before."

Harry's voice gained in strength as he repeated the words, letting Lucius guide him. Granger screamed as Fenrir howled and pounded into her one last time. The other wolves moved closer, their cocks shining red between their legs, spit dribbling from their tongues and down their jaws as they waited for their turn.

"No," Harry cried, devastated.

Lord Voldemort saw in his eyes the exact moment in which his soul broke.

Harry wrenched his hand from Lucius' and stood up, effortlessly countering the jinx holding him to the chair. He repeated the words of the chant. This time, his voice didn't waver. Nor did his hand.

His body flared with light. A frightful scream tore through the night from deep within Potter's chest. His whole body seized. His wand fell to the floor from numbed fingers, clattering against the wood. The light surrounding Potter intensified, and the Dark Lord had to close his eyes for fear of being blinded.

It lasted an eternity until finally the light started to fade. Lord Voldemort opened his eyes in time to see Harry fall into Lucius' waiting arms, unconscious. From the blinding light only a tiny spark remained. It hovered in the air for an instant, before it began to drift back to Potter's slack lips.

Lord Voldemort took a moonstone out of his robes and gave it to Lucius, who held it on his open hand, close to Potter's face. The Dark Lord drew his wand out and started to chant in Parseltongue. His brow creased in concentration as he forced the tiny spark into the moonstone. It moved reluctantly, inching back to Potter every other second, as if it could not quite bear to part with him. By the time the moonstone opened and closed itself around it, a sheen of sweat covered the Dark Lord's temples and the muscles of his wand arm trembled with exhaustion.

"It's done." The Dark Lord took the moonstone from Lucius' hand and closed his fingers around it. He looked back to the edge of the forest, where the next werewolf was pounding into Granger under Fenrir's careful supervision. "Let's go."

Lucius placed one arm under Potter's knees and another under his back and carried him to the door. Voldemort watched him with narrowed eyes, wondering why the other man hadn't just levitated him.

Fenrir padded towards them as soon as they stepped out of the booth. He sat back on his hind legs, tipping his head to the side with a questioning look.

"Do as you wish with the girl. She's no longer my concern," the Dark Lord said to the werewolf.

Lucius' nails dug in his arm, stopping him. When Voldemort looked at him, Malfoy's eyes had the grey colour of an upcoming storm. He recognised the threat in them. For a moment he was tempted to wrench his arm from Lucius' grip and walk away, but in that instant Lucius let go of him and adjusted his grip on Potter.

The light caught on the tears streaking the boy's face. In Voldemort's hand the moonstone pulsed with power, feeling warm and heavy. Voldemort opened his fingers and stared at it. It shimmered dark green in the moonlight before it turned the deepest shade of red.

"Whatever you do, though, make sure she survives. She belongs to your pack now," Voldemort told Fenrir. He walked to the Manor, confident that Lucius would follow.

* * *

When Harry came back to himself later that evening, he didn't remember much of what had happened. His body was numb with emptiness. He was in his rooms, on his bed, lying cushioned between Lucius and Voldemort. Even the pain in his scar, which was always there when the Dark Lord was near, was missing.

Harry rolled on his side and Lucius' eyes opened, fixing on him. They were filled with concern. Harry traced his fingers over the edges of Lucius' mouth, the wrinkles around his eyes, the deep frown on his brow, as if touching the obvious worry there could make him _feel it_ too. It didn't work.

Lucius kissed him and want kindled inside Harry. He welcomed it. It was at least something, better than the emptiness. He relished the way in which his heart beat faster; blood pounded in his ears and travelled to his cock, until it too started to fill with need. Behind him Lord Voldemort stirred. His fingers traced a line from Harry's nape to the crevice of his arse, sending shivers through Harry, and Harry arched into the touch, not caring that it was Voldemort.

The Dark Lord pushed one of Harry's legs up, exposing the puckered hole between Harry's arse cheeks and Harry let him, opening himself wider still, pushing his hips back in a silent plea for more. He moaned around Lucius' tongue as Lucius' hands caressed his sides and arms, travelling down his chest until they found his nipples and teased them to hardness. Harry groaned, breaking free of Lucius' kiss, his breath ragged with desire. He grabbed Lucius' hair and pushed his head down, wanting to feel Lucius' hot mouth and merciless teeth around his nipples. Lucius let himself be guided, biting his way down Harry's jaw and chest, leaving red, wet marks on his pale skin. Finally his mouth closed around Harry's left nipple and he bit down hard, making Harry twist and shudder at the sudden sharp pain.

Lord Voldemort's fingers brushed against Harry's opening before a slick finger breached him, making him grunt with desire. Soon another finger followed, teasing its way into him with a carefulness that had Harry falling apart. "Harder," he said.

Voldemort ignored him. He slowed his rhythm even more, until it seemed as if he wasn't moving at all. Harry growled and pushed back, fucking himself on Voldemort's fingers. His hard cock rubbed against Lucius' thighs and he thrust faster.

"Hush," Lord Voldemort whispered in his ear, stilling Harry's hips. A keening sound escaped Harry's lips as he fought Voldemort's grip. "Hush, we'll take care of you. Trust us. Lucius, hold him."

Lucius pressed one of his hands against Harry's lower back, holding him in place, while the other forced Harry's leg higher still, opening him even more, trapping Harry's leaking cock between their bodies. Lucius kissed Harry again, silencing his distraught sounds, distracting him from the need consuming him.

The Dark Lord's fingers breached him again, at first just two, moving in and out of Harry maddeningly slowly. A third finger followed, and then a fourth. Harry clenched his arse around Voldemort whenever his fingers withdrew. The Dark Lord growled with desire and pushed deeper on the next thrust and then deeper still, until Harry thought he would come just from his hand alone. Voldemort murmured something undistinguishable and thick oil filled Harry. It dripped from his hole and down his balls as Voldemort worked his thumb into him, opening him impossibly wide.

"Now." The Dark Lord bit Harry's nape. He pulled his fingers out and pushed the head of his cock into Harry's slick hole.

Harry moaned and shuddered as Voldemort's cock pressed against his prostate. His hips jerked forward and his cock ground into Lucius' hard belly. The Dark Lord rubbed Harry's balls and perineum, following the slow tempo of his thrusts. Harry groaned and twisted, trying to move faster, but Voldemort just chuckled roughly and ignored his attempts to set the rhythm.

Lucius let go of his lips to kiss Harry's neck and ear. His mouth travelled around Harry until it found Voldemort's. The wet sounds of their mouths battling for dominance filled the room together with Harry's ragged breaths and the soft slap of Voldemort's hips against Harry's arse.

Without warning a finger brushed against Harry's stretched opening, pushing softly inside. Harry started at the intrusion, but the finger continued moving in and out along Voldemort's cock, until Harry relaxed. A second finger joined the first. They poked at his prostate with every small movement, making Harry shudder with need.

"Please," Harry finally begged, unable to stand it any longer.

"Soon," Lucius whispered in his ear.

"Soon," the Dark Lord repeated.

The fingers retreated and the blunt head of Lucius' cock started to breach Harry's entrance, stretching him so wide he thought he was going to break. It hurt and Harry revelled in it, grateful to feel that much. Pleasure and pain built up in him, one merging into the other. He tried to relax around the cocks thrusting into him, but the pressure was too much. His vision blurred with the intensity of it all and his eyes watered. His muscles tightened with tension as wave after wave of pleasure-pain ran through him. It lasted an eternity until Lucius' cock was fully sheathed.

Harry was no longer empty but so full he thought he might burst. From far away he heard whimpers and pleas and moans and it took him some time to realise that they were coming from himself, but no matter how much he tried, he couldn't make himself stop.

One hand stroked his cock as other played with his sac, kneading it softly. Hot mouths licked around his neck and face and ears, while other hands played with his hard nipples. It was too much and not enough. Then Lucius kissed him again as Voldemort bit the back of his neck brutally, deepening the bruise already forming there and Harry's body gave in, orgasm taking him by surprise. Harry shuddered as he came. Each thrust of Lucius' and Voldemort's cocks tore another spurt of come out of him until nothing was left.

Lucius' cock throbbed inside Harry as his hips jerked. With one last thrust Lucius stiffened and emptied himself. Seconds later Voldemort followed, holding his body perfectly still as his come filled Harry's arse, mixing with Lucius'.

" _It does not feel so empty now, does it_?" Lord Voldemort hissed in his ear and Harry realised that he was right. He felt tired and sated, stuffed with their soft cocks, but that brutal, all-consuming emptiness that had threatened to steal his sanity had disappeared. Slowly they slid out of him and Harry whimpered in discomfort, but Lucius was there again, kissing him, soothing him.

" _Sleep_!" Lord Voldemort's fingers brushed over the tattoo on Harry's neck, sending a shiver through Harry as his fingernails scraped at the tender bruises there. Harry's eyes felt heavy. There was something important that he needed to remember, but it faded away as sleep overtook him.

The next day Harry woke up alone. He looked around warily, expecting to find Voldemort or Lucius lurking in the room. The memories of the evening came rushing.

The image of Hermione being fucked by Fenrir hit Harry with the force of a physical blow. Nothing else mattered. He stood up and stomped to the door. His half-raised hand froze on the doorknob. No matter how much he wanted to help Hermione, he would only make it worse if he violated the one rule given to him, forbidding him to leave his rooms without permission. Voldemort wasn't stupid. He had to have figured out that there was no better way to punish Harry than through Hermione.

Harry's hand fell to his side and he closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. When he turned back to the bed, he saw a set of wizard robes lying on a chair with a note on top. Harry read through the note three times. But no matter how often he re-read it, he couldn't believe it.

Voldemort had given him permission to roam free through the Manor as long as he didn't try to leave the grounds. Harry didn't know where the catch was, but sooner or later he would find out; he was sure. Right now, though, he needed to find out if Hermione had survived, and where she was.

If his fingers trembled slightly on the knob as he pushed the door open, Harry decided to ignore it. It felt strange, walking through the halls of the Manor and passing by the guards without having them stop him. He didn't like what it said about him that such a small freedom felt like being born anew. The next time he saw a guard Harry went to him, ignoring the blood pounding wildly in his chest. He asked him where Fenrir was and the guard answered without hesitation, almost solicitous. It scared Harry more than a coarse reply would have.

His search for Fenrir stopped when he found Hermione in the dungeons, lying unconscious in the middle of a cell. Her skin was covered in bruises and dried blood. Her hair was tangled and dirty. Despite it all, seeing her alive was the best thing that had happened to Harry in months.

"I heard from the Lord that you were given permission to roam free," Fenrir said, stepping away from the shadows. "I was waiting for you." He walked to Harry until their shoulders brushed.

"Is she all right?" Harry asked after a while, unable to tear his eyes from his friend.

"She will be. She's a tough one. Reminds me of you. I'll never be allowed to turn you. That much is clear. But she's a nice consolation prize."

"She's not a prize!" Harry seethed.

The other man chuckled, "Don't worry, human, I'll take good care of her. She's mine now. I'm taking her with me tomorrow. She needs to be with the pack and learn our ways."

They remained silent for a long time, watching Hermione's chest rise and fall with every breath she took.

Harry spoke first. "Don't force her to eat human flesh."

"She's a wolf now, Potter. I will have no need to force her to do anything." Fenrir stepped closer and grabbed Harry's chin with his bloodied fingers, forcing him to look at him. "She will do it of her own free will. When the moon calls, she will run with the pack and hunt with us. She'll tear the humans apart with her claws and her fangs and will bathe in their blood, and she will love it. She'll sing to the moon and for the first time ever will understand what it truly means to be free. That's her right as a werewolf and I won't take it away from her to satisfy your human sensibilities."

Harry could smell his putrid breath with every word. It stank of blood and flesh: Hermione's. He swallowed, forcing himself to breathe through it all and not throw up.

"I'm not talking about the full moon nights," Harry said. The last months had taught him to choose his battles wisely. "I know what you do to the new pack members, though. People talk."

He had heard murmurs about the cages where the new ones were kept, naked, forced to eat human flesh or starve. Sooner or later they broke. Sometimes they broke completely and nothing remained of the human they once had been, just a mindless, brutal beast by day and by night, regardless of the phases of the moon. Harry just needed to buy Hermione some time until she could learn to adapt. For her sake he hoped that she was a quicker study than Harry had been. Then again, she had always been smarter.

"You want me to starve your pretty girlfriend?"

"I want you to feed her something that isn't human flesh or raw meat," Harry said. "It's not too much to ask."

"It's much to ask." Fenrir let go of his chin, his hands falling to his sides. "There can't be exceptions in the pack. They will shun her, and that's the last thing you want for her. Without the pack's protection she will be lost."

"Fenrir," Harry said, looking him in the eyes. "You control the pack. I'm asking you to do this for me, as a personal favour." He caressed Fenrir's rough cheek with the back of his fingers. "Please."

Fenrir crowded Harry against the wall and brushed Harry's lips with his tongue. "It will cost you," he said.

"I will pay." Harry closed the fraction of space separating them. He kissed Fenrir, opening his mouth to let him in. As usual Fenrir's kiss had the coppery taste of blood. Only this time Harry knew whose blood it was. He deepened the kiss, erasing with his tongue every trace of it. He was beyond salvation already; he just hoped that this bought Hermione enough time.

It was Fenrir who stopped first. "Come with me, then," he growled into Harry's ear. "The knife is in my rooms." He closed his fingers over the back of Harry's neck, nails digging in deeper than necessary, but not daring to shed blood. Harry's cock jumped and he trembled almost imperceptibly.

Later, when he was bound to Fenrir's bed, straining to deepen the sharp kiss of his knife, he did not think about Hermione once. Nor did he think about the unknown spell that bought her life, nor about its possible consequences.

The next day, when Harry went in search of Hermione, she was no longer in the Manor. He didn't know how to feel about it. Harry was happy that she was away from Voldemort. It might not seem like it, but Fenrir was the lesser of two evils. At least he took good care of his pack. Voldemort only worried about power and himself.

Guilt tore at Harry. He blamed himself for what had happened to Hermione, but he didn't fail to notice that the night she was turned marked a new start for his life as a prisoner. Apart from Lucius and the Dark Lord, no one, not even Snape, was allowed to touch him. Harry tried to deny it, but he was thankful for the reprieve.

What kind of person had he become that he could actually enjoy those small liberties, even though he knew the price Hermione had paid for them?

Even though he felt guilty, Harry didn't hesitate to use his new privileges. He roamed through the Manor, testing the boundaries of his freedom. Escape was still impossible, though. As soon as he approached a door or even a window, the wards of the Manor froze him in place, literally. He had to wait for Lucius to come and thaw him. For hours afterwards Harry could not get warm enough. Only Lucius' cock inside him was able to erase the persisting chill.

It was as if the bad luck of the last months was over, though. Three days after his unexpected almost-freedom, Nilly came to him. Her lanky fingers trembled as she handed Harry the small vial with the _Mors Invisibilis_ potion. "Nilly has punished herself horribly, Master Potter, but she's still happy she could help."

"I know, Nilly, and I can't thank you enough," Harry said. It didn't bother him as much as before, though. She was not the only one suffering. As long as she helped him, he didn't care what she had to do.

Harry spent all his free time exploring the Manor. Neither Voldemort nor Lucius seemed to mind as long as he went back to his room every night and let them use his arse and mouth and body without protesting. It was a good bargain. The best he had been given since his capture

The knowledge Snape had made him pay for with blood and tears turned suddenly useful and Harry rejoiced in the fact that the greasy git would never know that his sick kink for lecturing Harry during sex would be the key to Harry's escape.

Harry didn't have his wand with him, but after careful observation he started to recognise the signs of blood wards protecting the Manor's doors and windows. Old, traditional wards, the kind that could be countered with seed and blood of the Head of the House and the right ritual words. No wand was needed. It was almost too easy, Harry thought, as he lay satiated in bed that night, covered in Lucius' and Voldemort's come, his lips and fingernails tainted red from where he had bitten a tad too hard or scraped a tad too deep in the throes of orgasm.

Ironically, now that he could escape, Harry found himself unwilling to. He had sacrificed too much already. If he escaped now, he would lose even more. He wanted it to end. He would escape only when it was over, when Voldemort was dead once and for all. What better place to kill him than right where he lived?

So Harry waited.

He encountered Pettigrew once during his explorations. The other man jumped when he saw Harry approaching, turned into a rat and scurried away. Harry watched him go, an idea forming in his mind.

"We need to talk," Harry told him the next time he saw him, before Pettigrew could escape.

"Harry." Wormtail's eyes were wide as he looked left and right, checking if someone else was near. "What are you doing here all alone? Shouldn't you be in your rooms?"

"Not particularly. Voldemort knows that I like to wander around." Harry relished the way Wormtail flinched at the mention of his Master's name.

"The Dark Lord is very generous," Wormtail said, flexing the fingers of his silver hand.

"You should hope so, since I've come to claim the Life Debt you owe me."

Wormtail paled and took a step back. "The Life Debt," he repeated slowly as if he couldn't quite believe it. "You want to claim it? Your father would never have claimed a Life Debt, not even against his worst enemy."

"I'm not my father," Harry stated.

"No, you're not."

Harry knew that the words were meant to hurt and months ago they would have, but now they just felt hollow and transparent. Harry could read Peter like an open book.

"I already told you as much," he said with nonchalance. "I want you to teach me how to become an Animagus."

"An Animagus?" Wormtail stuttered.

"Yes." Being an Animagus would help Harry beyond just his escape. It was a knowledge that had belonged to Sirius and his father. It was only fair that Wormtail, who had betrayed them both, would be forced by magic to share it with him.

"That's not as easy as it sounds. Not every wizard has the power," Wormtail said.

"If you managed it, I have not doubts that I will too. If you don't help me, or if you ever tell anyone that I want to become an Animagus, the terms of the Life Debt will be broken. It might not kill you, but I'm sure the Dark Lord will. He has no use for Squibs." The smile on Harry's face was a perfect copy of Lucius' nastiest one.

Wormtail stepped back, trembling with fear.

It felt good.

"I wouldn't tell anyone, Harry. You are James' son; I held you when you were nothing but a tiny baby. Of course I'll help you," Wormtail said, wringing his hands.

"See that you do. We'll start tomorrow. Come to my rooms; if there's anyone inside, wait until they leave. And Wormtail, go as a rat. It'll be less conspicuous."

"One day isn't enough time to get everything ready," Pettigrew tried to plead with him.

"I really don't care. I find the idea of you becoming a Squib and being killed by the Dark Lord as satisfying as the idea of becoming an Animagus. Whatever outcome you choose I will be equally happy. Tomorrow," Harry said and left without looking back.

Harry's life changed from that day on. In the mornings he explored the Manor, in the afternoons he learned how to become an Animagus, and in the evenings he spread himself open for the Dark Lord and Malfoy, touching their souls and sharing their power a bit more every time, gathering what he needed for his final escape.

It was in Lucius' mind that he saw it. An image of Lord Voldemort opening a hidden compartment below the chair in his studio to feed Nagini some eggs. Harry sucked Lucius' cock harder and clamped his arse around Voldemort's fingers. The image was gone as quickly as it had come. Others followed, as they always did. Lucius showing Draco to Voldemort when he was nothing but a baby. Tom Riddle dressed in a school uniform, opening the Chamber of Secrets. The dark cupboard where the Dursleys had used to keep Harry prisoner. He swallowed around Lucius, bobbing his head faster. It was difficult to keep them away when they were already inside.

It took him two and half weeks to slowly unravel the wards around the Dark Lord's studio without anyone finding out and almost as much time to take from Voldemort's mind the password protecting the compartment. His fingers didn't quiver as he opened the vial of stolen potion. One by one, he let the drops fall, one for each egg, and watched as the eggshells soaked them up, turning a slight shade of blue before returning to their natural colour.

Then he went back to his room, and once more he waited.

* * *

The air smelt of salt. Tom Riddle stood at the edge of the familiar cliff near the orphanage. An icy breeze ruffled his hair. Below him the waves crashed against the rocks. In the cloudless night sky only one star shone. Its light exploded, illuminating the night with a sudden white flare of light before it died away. Only one tiny, insignificant white spark remained. It fell from the sky, drifting towards Tom's outstretched hand. It burned brighter as it touched his fingertips, before melting into him. Tom gasped. It was like touching summer. Around him grass sprang up everywhere, colouring the bereft earth and the breeze became warmer and softer. Tom basked in the heat. It had been so long since he last had felt warm inside. He sighed, forcing himself to wake up.

Lord Voldemort opened his eyes in the darkness of Harry's room. He touched his chest, surprised at how warm the skin was. He turned on his side. Next to him Harry and Lucius slept on, entangled with each other, oblivious to everything else, their breathing deep and even. He stood up and spelled on some clothes.

He strode through the corridors of the Manor until he reached his chambers. He hissed his password to the snake statue guarding the entrance and it moved aside. Once inside he went to the portrait of Salazar Slytherin hanging on the wall. He talked to it Parseltongue until it flipped away, revealing the naked wall behind. Voldemort drew his wand and pressed seven different points on the wall only he could recognise. He counted seventy-seven seconds in his head and pressed his wand to the same spots, alternating the sequence. Seven minutes later, the wall rippled, transforming into a small door. He hissed another password at it and the door finally opened. Inside, Hufflepuff's Cup stood untouched. It pulsed with magic.

Voldemort staggered back. With trembling fingers he laid his wand flat over his open palm. " _Point Nagini_!" the Dark Lord said.

The wand rotated thrice before stopping; it didn't quite remain still but hovered, as if it wasn't too sure about where it needed to point to. The blood pounded in Voldemort's ears as he practically ran through the corridors of the Manor, towards the indicated place, barely remembering to close his room.

The doors of the Manor banged open moments before he reached them, waking up everyone in the house. He didn't care. When he stepped through the back door to the garden he saw her.

Nagini lay utterly still over a big stone in a corner of the garden. Lord Voldemort stopped in his tracks, unable to move. If he went, he would know for sure. Now he could still hope.

Lucius' hand on his shoulder broke his reverie. The Dark Lord looked at him and for the first time noticed a half dozen Death Eaters who stood behind them, unsure of what to do. Lucius' fingers brushed his face and only then did Voldemort realise that a single tear had escaped him.

"I didn't know you could still cry," Lucius said. His voice was pitched so low that only Voldemort could hear it.

"Neither did I. Is she—?" The Dark Lord's voice trailed off into silence. He could not bring himself to say the word.

"Yes." Lucius averted his eyes.

"I want to know who did it. I want them dead," he hissed.

Lucius looked up again. The evening shadows hid his face. "She died a natural death. I already tested it."

"No. That's impossible. Do you truly believe that I would leave her exposed to something as simple and pedestrian as natural death? Someone killed her. Someone powerful."

"Not many people are that powerful," Lucius said.

"Only two come to mind." The Dark Lord's grip on his wand hardened.

"Then let it be. It's already done."

"No. Did you—?"

"I didn't," Lucius interrupted. "You know I didn't. I've done nothing but stall, despite the magical vow binding me."

The Dark Lord looked back at the Manor. Three steps behind the back door, Harry hovered, trying to find out what was going on in the garden. One inch closer and the wards would freeze him. Lord Voldemort looked at him and their eyes met. It was the Dark Lord who looked away first.

"How did he do it? I made sure he couldn't get close to her. Ever."

"If it was him. You don't know for sure." Lucius tried to reason with him.

"Who else could have been? Find out how he did it," the Dark Lord ordered.

"You can't—"

"I know," Voldemort snapped. "I won't kill him. He did kill my best friend, though. I'll just make sure he knows what that feels like. Bellatrix, come here!"

"My Lord," she said, approaching him.

"Give me your arm. We are going on a raid."

Her eyes lit as she bared her arm for him, going on her knees. She licked her lips, waiting. He touched the mark on her arm with the tip of his forefinger and she screamed, thrusting her hips forward. The rich smell of her arousal filled Voldemort's nostrils. It was intoxicating, knowing that he could make her come with just a touch. It was almost enough to brighten his mood.

Within a minute the Death Eaters started to Apparate. They formed a circle around Lord Voldemort. Lucius ignored the empty spot the others had left for him and remained next to the Dark Lord.

"Tonight, we'll launch the final attack," Voldemort said. "Give no quarter! Take no prisoners!"

The Death Eaters bellowed in agreement.

"Lucius, you will remain here. Make sure that Potter doesn't do something he'll end up regretting."

"My Lord," Severus interrupted him, breaking away from the circle of Death Eaters and coming closer. "Excuse my forwardness, but I believe it would be best if I remained behind and took care of the boy. I'm at a critical stage in the brewing of the potion you wanted. If I leave now, months of work will be wasted. I could take the boy to my labs and watch over him as I work on your potion."

"That's a pity, Severus. You've been central to my success over all these years. I would have wanted you at my side when I finally destroy the last front of the resistance," the Dark Lord said.

"My Lord, there is nothing I would have liked more than to go with you, but—"

The Dark Lord chuckled. "Don't worry, my dear Potions Master. I know that Potions come always first for you. Finish your work. I'm looking forward to the results. As for Potter, Lucius will keep an eye on him while you concentrate on your task."

"Apparate Diagon Alley!"

* * *

The Death Eaters Disapparated one by one, until only Lucius and Snape remained. They walked back to the Manor together. Lucius held his cane loosely in one hand, but Harry didn't miss the not so casual way in which its end aimed carefully at Snape, who followed Malfoy, lagging always half a step behind.

"Potter," Snape said as soon as they entered the house. "Follow me to the labs. You will assist me in my current project."

"Harry, stay where you are." Lucius advanced two steps until he was side by side with Harry and turned to Snape. "The Dark Lord was very clear about who the boy was to stay with, Severus. You go finish your potion. Harry and I have other things to do."

"I'm sure you do," Snape sneered. "Maybe that's why Narcissa left. You're too taken with your little catamite. Only he isn't yours, is he? He's the Dark Lord's. How the mighty have fallen."

"Choose your words very carefully, Severus. They can be deadly," Lucius warned him in a chilling tone.

"Are you threatening me?"

"Of course not. It's more a friendly advice," Lucius said with a thin smile. "The Dark Lord was very specific about which of us was to keep the boy, but I'm in a generous mood. Why don't we let him choose?" Lucius looked at Harry, who had remained silent watching the by-play. "Who do you want to go with, Harry?"

"Now that's a tough choice." Harry's voice dripped with sarcasm. "The murdering bastard who killed Dumbledore, or you? I'll take my chances with you, I suppose," Harry added in too sweet a tone. His eyes never left Snape, though.

The Potions Master's face twisted in an angry grimace. "As usual your stupidity knows no bounds. Not that it comes as a surprise. With a father and a godfather like yours, what else could be expected?"

"I'd rather be stupid than a turncoat," Harry spat.

"Which just confirms your stupidity. Lucius, he's all yours. Enjoy him." Snape strode away; the hem of his black robes floated behind him.

"Well done, Harry," Lucius said after Snape had left.

"What just happened? Where did Voldemort go all of the sudden?"

"To attack the Ministry and the Order of the Phoenix's headquarters." Lucius' eyes burned into Harry's.

Harry could sense the soft, almost imperceptible brush of Lucius' mind prodding his. Automatically, Harry strengthened his mental shields.

"He knows where the Order is?"

"Your little Mudblood friend was not immune to a healthy dose of Veritaserum. We have known for a while now, but the attack was actually planned for next week," Lucius told him.

Harry's heart skipped a beat as it always did when Hermione was mentioned. No one told him anything about her, no matter how often he asked or how deep he prodded within the others' mind during sex. Reading Fenrir would have been easier, but the Dark Lord had been very specific about whom Harry was allowed to sleep with and whom not. He hoped for his friends' sake that they had been intelligent enough to change their hiding places once Hermione was captured.

"Why attack now? Why change his plans?" Harry asked.

"Nagini is dead," Lucius said in a grave voice.

Harry remained quiet for an instant, trying to school his expression to remain neutral. Inside he felt like shouting with joy. One down and only one to go. Then, it finally would be over.

He noticed how the last months had changed him. Harry was no longer afraid of becoming a murderer or of dying. Regardless of what end the prophecy would take, it would finally be over.

"How did she die?"

"You know perfectly well how. Don't try to fool me, Harry. Did you think that I wouldn't feel your tampering with the wards in the Dark Lord's studio? Did you believe that you could have a house-elf come into this house without me finding out?

"This is the _Malfoy_ Manor. The magic of the house is tied to me. I know everything that goes on in this house; even things Voldemort knows not," Lucius told him in a cutting tone.

"You knew." Harry was dismayed to realise that Lucius had known all along the plans he had tried so carefully to hide. "Why didn't you tell the Dark Lord?"

"We have a deal, Harry. I thought that was clear," Lucius said.

"Liar! I've been asking you for months to help me kill Nagini and you have done nothing but stall," Harry accused.

"I couldn't help you with that! Destroying the Cup yes, even killing Voldemort, but not Nagini."

"Why?"

"Because he ordered me not to do it. He was not worried about the Cup, not even about himself, too proud to believe that you could pose a threat. However, he was worried about Nagini. I had to use what little protection our vow offered to keep _your plans_ secret. I couldn't do more than that. It took you long enough to realise that you had to act on your own," Lucius said.

Harry hated the condescending tone in his voice, as if it was Harry's fault that he had not acted sooner. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"You had to prove your worth," Lucius told him. "I had to see what you were capable of alone before acknowledging our alliance." He kissed Harry then, just a soft brush of his lips against the corner of Harry's mouth. It was aimed to placate him, but it only infuriated Harry more, especially because it worked.

"Fine! And now that she's dead, have I proven myself to you?" Harry sneered, jerking his head away.

"Yes, you have," Lucius smiled. "Let's finish this. Voldemort will win tonight, I have no doubt. Afterwards it will only become more difficult to kill him. We need to destroy the Cup tonight."

"We have to find it first," Harry said.

"I know where it is. Follow me."

Lucius walked down the corridors of the Manor with purpose and Harry trailed behind him. Soon he lost track of where they were heading. It surprised him that despite his many explorations, he had not discovered this wing of the Manor yet.

"This part of the house was warded against you," Lucius said as if reading his mind. "You couldn't see it."

Finally, Lucius stopped in front of a snake statue. "It guards Voldemort's private chambers." Lucius made a vague gesture with his hand pointing at the snake.

"Allow me." Harry stepped forward. " _Speak to me, Slytherin, greatest of Hogwarts Four,_ " Harry hissed at the snake, and was not surprised when it moved aside, opening for them. He smiled at Lucius. "He can be rather predictable in his arrogance."

Lucius gaped at Harry as if he couldn't quite believe how easy it had been. His eyes were wide with undisguised surprise.

"Are you coming or not?" Harry asked after a while.

Lucius laughed out loud. "I underestimate you too much at times. I was actually going to suggest breaking through the wards, but this is much, much easier. Let's go inside, by all means." He bowed to Harry, indicating he should enter first.

Harry stopped in his tracks as soon as he'd entered the room. There was a compartment in the wall, open for all to see, and in it lay Hufflepuff's Cup. It looked exactly as it had in the dozen books Hermione, Ron and he had researched before he was captured. It seemed like a lifetime ago.

"This is a trap," Harry said. "It can't be this easy. None of the other Horcruxes were this unprotected."

"How can he be this careless?" Lucius snarled.

Harry looked at him, taken aback by the fury in his voice. A corner of Lucius' mouth curved down and his fingers tightened on the snakehead of his cane until it actually hissed.

"He isn't," Harry said. "It's a trap."

"I wouldn't be so sure. Voldemort can be very careless with his Horcruxes at times," Lucius said, looking at Harry with such intensity that it sent shivers down Harry's spine.

"All the better for us. Why do you care?" Harry's brow creased in confusion.

"This should have been a challenge to our magical power, not just something as easy as levitating the Cup and smashing it," Lucius said in calmer tone.

"It won't be as easy as that."

Lucius and Harry both turned around. Snape was standing at the door, his wand aimed at the two of them. Harry didn't dare look away from it.

"Severus, what a pleasant surprise," Lucius said. "Leave this room and go back to your labs. This is not what it seems, my friend."

Out of the corner of his eye Harry saw that Lucius' wand was also aimed at Snape. He must have unsheathed it as he turned around to face the sudden threat.

"I don't know, Lucius. It looks to me as if you intend to destroy the last Horcrux the Dark Lord has," Snape said.

"Stop it! The two of you, just stop it!" Draco stepped into the room and placed himself between Lucius' and Snape's wands. It was a rather stupid thing to do, and Snape told him as much. It pained Harry that they thought alike if only in this small thing.

"Enough!" Draco said, interrupting Snape. "We have no time to lose. The Dark Lord might come back any minute and there's no point in playing who is more faithful when it's evident that all of us have the same goal. Let's destroy the stupid Horcrux and let Potter kill him once and for all." Draco looked at both Lucius and Snape, half pleading, half determined.

"Severus, I thought you were faithful to Voldemort, his most faithful follower even." Lucius voice had dangerous edge to it.

"Don't say his name!" Severus spat.

"So very respectful even in your betrayal; no wonder Dumbledore never saw it coming. Spare me your sensibilities," Lucius said. His voice and face lost all traces of emotion the longer he spoke.

"Some of us are careful until the end. Although I have to thank you for leaving the door open. It would have taken forever to break through the wards, even with Draco's help," Snape said. His voice too was devoid of any emotion. "Shall we finish this once and for all?" Despite his words, his wand was still pointed at Lucius.

"Don't believe a word he says, Lucius. It's a trap. He's a bloody traitor," Harry snarled.

"Yes, I see that," Lucius said. His grey eyes were dark with fury.

"Really, Lucius. You're one to talk; you too are betraying him." Snape ignored Harry completely.

"You'll never cease to surprise me, Severus. Let's finish this." Lucius lowered his wand slowly, not taking his eyes off Severus as he did the same.

"If it's a consolation, you surprised me too. I would have never believed you capable of betraying the Dark Lord," Snape told Lucius.

"What can I say?" Lucius' smile did not touch his eyes. "Harry can be so very convincing when he wishes."

Snape looked at Harry up and down, assessing him. "I'll take your word for it," he said. "Here." Snape offered a vial to Harry. "I've been working on this potion for some time now. You just need to pour five drops over the Cup. It will destroy any magical protection on it. Its metal will melt until nothing of it remains."

Harry didn't move. "You killed Dumbledore! Do you truly expect me to believe that you're not faithful to the Dark Lord?"

"I don't need to explain myself to you, Potter. Dumbledore was already dead. He had been dead since he destroyed Gaunt's ring. It was not murder. It was euthanasia," Snape said, balling his left hand into a fist.

"Give it to me." Lucius pried the vial from Severus' fingers. "I'll do it."

"Father, you can't. It has to be Potter. There's a prophecy—".

"I know about the prophecy," Lucius interrupted Draco. "It refers to Voldemort, not to his Horcruxes. Dumbledore managed to destroy one without too much of a problem."

"He died!" Draco said.

"That's all right. I've always fancied myself a better wizard."

Before anyone could do or say anything, Lucius walked to the Cup and poured the five drops on it. The metal started to smoke, melting. As when Harry had destroyed Tom Riddle's diary and Slytherin's locket, a halo of light surrounded the Cup, shining so bright it blinded them before dying down.

"It worked," Harry said, still not believing it.

He looked at Snape as if seeing him for the first time. It couldn't be. Harry clung to his hate, not willing to let it go, even though all evidence pointed in Snape's favour. The Occlumency, the lessons about wards and protections, the potions, the poisons. It had all been part of a plan. He had conned Harry until the very end, even while he helped him.

"Of course it did. Unlike you I never miss-brew a potion." Snape's eyes bore into Harry.

"Why kill him?" Harry asked in a small voice. He needed to understand.

"I already told you. Because he was dying, because it would allow me to gain the Dark Lord's trust... Because he asked me to," Snape said.

Harry recognised the boy who had been the Half-Blood Prince looking at him out of the shadows of Snape's black eyes.

The chilling, deadly voice of the Dark Lord interrupted their conversation. " _Avada Kedavra_!"

"No!" Someone screamed and it was as if time rushed forward. The next thing Harry saw was Draco dead on the floor between Voldemort and Snape. A small smile grazed his lips. Rather than being dead, it seemed as if he was just dreaming. It surprised Harry that Draco Malfoy could love someone so much. Even more surprising was to know that he had loved Snape.

" _Expelliarmus_!" Lucius cried. Voldemort was thrown against a wall as his wand flew over to Lucius. "Here! Hurry up!" Lucius threw Voldemort's wand at Harry, who caught it mid-air.

The moment it touched his fingers, warmth spread through him. It was like touching his own wand, only this time the power was not bound. Harry couldn't help the happiness filling him, even though he knew what he had to do next.

He didn't wait for Voldemort to stand up.

Harry remembered all the Dark Lord had done to him, to his family and his friends, to Dumbledore, to the wizarding world. And even though after months of sharing his bed willingly and touching his soul and mind Harry could no longer hate him, wanting him dead was so very easy.

" _Avada Kedavra_!" he said. The Dark Lord's wand pulled the magic out of him as if it knew what it needed for the curse to work. It probably did, too. It was the easiest thing Harry had done in his life.

* * *

Lord Voldemort saw the curse approach him, surprised that Harry had actually managed to make it work on the first try. The curse hit him in the chest, tearing his body from the inside.

Once more he felt the familiar pull of Harry's soul calling to him, beckoning him to let go of everything and join him. Forever. It was ten thousand times worse than before, for it didn't hurt. Harry opened his soul to him with the same ease and acceptance with which he opened his body, inviting, seducing. Lord Voldemort released his dead body and reached for Harry with wraithlike fingers.

Touching Harry was like kissing him, and he ached to possess him one more time. It didn't matter if it was his last as long as he could have him. Even death did not seem so terrible if he could die being one with his soul.

Harry welcomed him and when he touched him, Voldemort didn't sense hatred or fear, only acceptance and a profound relief that echoed what Voldemort himself felt. It was over. After decades of searching without knowing what he truly wanted, he had found it at last.

Harry's soul was home.

" _Petrificus totalus_!" Lucius' voice broke through his trance and Voldemort watched, dismayed, as the red light of the curse rushed towards Harry. The enthralling pull of Harry's soul stopped as Harry's body hardened and became rock-like. It took Voldemort an instant to overcome the sudden sense of loss.

" _Expelliarmus_!" Lucius said, and Severus' wand flew to him. " _Stupefy_!"

The surprised look on Snape's face erased some of the ache inside Voldemort. It was good to see Snape bested at his own game. That would teach him to betray the Dark Lord.

"Are you all right?" Lucius asked him.

"Yes," Voldemort answered. He looked back to Harry, who watched the two of them out of wide, paralysed eyes. The curse had taken Potter by surprise, as it should have.

"You're welcome," Lucius said pointedly.

Lord Voldemort ignored him and watched Severus' unconscious body instead. His nose was too long, his cheeks hollow, his teeth yellow and his hair dirty. For someone who had lived the last three years in a half-corpse and had spent thirteen years before that without a body at all, it was perfect. "Wake Severus," he ordered Lucius. "He should know that he failed. I want that to be his last thought."

"Of course," Lucius said. He conjured a chair and levitated Severus into it. " _Incarcerous_!"

A magical rope appeared out of thin air and tied itself around Severus' body, almost mummifying him until only his head remained free. Lucius turned to Harry next, who was still watching them out of furious green eyes. He placed him against a wall. Chains sprouted from it, wrapping themselves around Harry's neck and waist and around his ankles and wrists.

"Ennervate!" Lucius said, pointing his wand at Snape.

As soon as he regained consciousness, Severus looked around as much as the rope allowed him. "My Lord," he said to the disembodied cloud that had been Lord Voldemort, "Malfoy is working with Potter against you. It was he who destroyed the Horcrux. Read his mind and you will see."

"I know, Severus," said Voldemort. "I've known all along about Lucius' plans. It's you I didn't know about. Killing Dumbledore was a stroke of genius. I believed you to be a true friend, the most loyal among my followers." Lord Voldemort reached with ghostly fingers inside Severus' chest and closed his hand around his heart. Severus screamed and the chair quivered as his muscles jerked uselessly under the rope.

"Don't kill him," Lucius told Lord Voldemort. "We need him alive."

Severus panted for minutes after Voldemort took his hand away.

"You will never learn, Lucius," Snape said to Malfoy, still gasping with pain. "Do you think this guarantees your position as his right hand man for the next years? He killed Draco!"

Lucius walked towards Draco's body and prodded it with his foot. "Well spotted, Severus. The boy is actually dead," he said as if he were commenting on the weather. "He jumped in front of a Killing Curse. Even the Old Magic protecting him knew it wasn't murder, but suicide. What a waste of a perfectly worded protective vow. Alas, who would have thought the boy could be so stupid?"

"How can you not care? He's your son," Severus said in disbelief.

"He was."

"Lucius, the Dark Lord is at his weakest now. We could destroy him together and rule the world," Severus said. "Don't be so naïve as to think helping him will change your status within his ranks. The moment you stop being useful he will discard you again."

"Really, Severus, trying to subvert my servant right under my nose. How gauche!" Lord Voldemort hovered closer to Severus. He enjoyed the way the other man paled. It stroked his ego that a man as cunning and powerful as Severus, who had successfully betrayed him for years without him finding about it, knew to fear him.

Severus' answer was lost as the lights in the room went out and a deadly chill filled everything.

"Lumos!" Lucius said. A ray of light left his wand only to dim immediately, giving the room an eerie aspect.

Behind them a tiny whine left Harry's paralysed throat. The boy's eyes had turned white and if it weren't for the chains and the curse holding him in place it seemed as if he would be having a seizure. Lucius went to him immediately, placing his hand on the snake tattoo on his neck and hissing softly to it, " _Sleep_!"

"Him," Lucius said to the Dementor entering the room from his place next to Harry. He pointed to Severus. Snape's ragged breaths became faster. Small, white clouds formed in front of him as soon as he breathed out.

"No!" Severus screamed as if only now understanding what would happen to him.

"Don't worry, Severus," Lucius said in a mocking tone. "Soon we will rule the world together. Just as you wanted."

Severus closed his lips, his eyes focusing despite his fear. It was easy for Lucius to silently counter any of his attempts at wandless magic as the Dementor glided towards Snape.

Greyish, glistening fingers grabbed Severus' chin, forcing it up. With its other hand, the Dementor removed its hood. It bowed its head down until its mouth was next to Severus'. Its fingers held him effortlessly in place. A small ball of light was ripped out of Severus' mouth. It hovered in the air for a second before the Dementor opened its lips and swallowed it whole into the black emptiness inside it.

The Dementor turned to Lucius and bowed to him, before looking at Lord Voldemort and doing the same. It glided out of the room. The sounds of its rattling breaths dimmed as it moved away. After a while the chill air turned warmer and the lights of the candles kindled again, illuminating every corner of the chambers.

On his chair Severus' body remained utterly still. His vacant expression and unfocused eyes were a sharp contrast to the usually piercing, dark glare marrying Severus' face.

A perfect, empty vessel waiting to be filled.

Lord Voldemort went to it. He circled around the body for a while before entering it through the still open mouth, taking possession of it. Without another soul to fight him for dominance, it was easy to take complete control.

The broken piece of soul that held Voldemort's consciousness and power sang in almost-happiness as it finally settled in a human body all of its own after years of having to make do with poor substitutes. It reached into the most hidden corners of Severus, learning him. Voldemort's magical power sought out Severus' magic and merged with it.

Severus' body and magic opened to him, welcomed him as if even those few seconds they had been forced to live without a soul were too much to bear. Even a half soul was a better than no soul at all.

The magical rope binding Severus' body disappeared with a silent command on Voldemort's part. It pleased him to realise that magic came easier than before with Severus' power to boost it. He stood up, testing the strength of his new body and its boundaries.

Lucius came to him. They looked at each other for a moment before Lucius kissed him. Lord Voldemort moaned, thrusting his hips against Lucius, taken aback by how fast pleasure travelled down to his cock in this body.

Lucius broke the kiss and laughed. "Yes, I know. It feels incredible to have a real body after so many years, does it not?"

"Yes," Lord Voldemort gasped, pulling Lucius down for another kiss. "I understand now why you couldn't let go of Harry, after taking over Lucius' body. I had forgotten how good this should feel."

"It was worse for me; at least you were free to move and cast magic. I spent almost fifty years imprisoned inside a ring. A part of me is actually grateful to Dumbledore for freeing me of that hell. I will never forgive you for that," Lucius said, stepping back.

Lord Voldemort chuckled. "No, I suppose you won't be able to. Forgiveness has never been easy for us. I have eternity to make it up to you." He kissed Lucius once more.

"Giving me Malfoy's body was a good start. I've always wanted to be a pureblood, after all." Lucius' smile was chilling. He glanced at Draco's corpse and grimaced. "It seems as if useless self-sacrifice runs in the Malfoy family. Pity. The boy would have made a wonderful Horcrux. The vow only bound us to keep him alive. Protecting his soul was never part of the deal. "

Voldemort snorted. "Lucius didn't even know how to protect his own soul."

"Offering us _anything_! How very naïve. Love is such a weakness; I'm glad we were never touched by it," Lucius' voice said.

Voldemort remembered the absolute, unconditional acceptance of Harry's soul as it opened itself to him. He repressed a shuddered. "Yes, I'm glad too."

"This little charade is over now," Lucius said. "The prophecy is fulfilled. Harry is no longer a danger to us. I might have been forced to give up my rightful title for our plan to work, but we are equals now. I want the whole world to know truth: I am the Dark Lord. I am Lord Voldemort."

" _We_ are the Dark Lord. _I_ am Lord Voldemort. The name belongs to me, no matter what body I wear. You are a Horcrux, Lucius, and the Horcrux bears the name of the vessel." Voldemort caressed Lucius' face with the back of Severus' long fingers.

"Should I call you Severus then?" Lucius snorted. "Keep the name if it pleases you. At least Malfoy is a good pureblood name. Choosing our magical name based on the roots of our Muggle one wasn't that clever anyway."

"Don't mock me. I could always call you _Thomas_ ," Lord Voldemort threatened Lucius in a mocking tone.

"There's no need to become offensive," Lucius laughed. "We need to take care of Harry. But there is something I need to do first."

Lucius bared his left arm, exposing the Dark Mark marring his white skin. He touched the mark with the tip of his finger and hissed in Parseltongue, " _Erase Morsmordre_!" Black smoke rose as the mark started to melt away, dripping down his arm to the floor like black oil.

"You're right," Lord Voldemort said. He too touched the mark on Snape's arm with the tip of his forefinger and hissed to it, watching mesmerised as it disappeared without leaving any traces. Then he walked to Harry's sleeping form and woke him before releasing him. The boy fell to the floor, his muscles still asleep after being paralysed for so long.

"Don't touch me!" Harry recoiled as Lucius tried to help him up. "You lying bastard. I can't believe I trusted you!"

"Neither could I half of the time," Lord Voldemort said.

"Snape, are you on their side too?" Harry asked confused. "They were going to have you kissed!"

Harry's eyes widened all of a sudden. Voldemort could see the wheels turning in his head as all the pieces started to fit together. He looked at him and at Lucius and shrank back horrified. The boy was painfully naïve and trusting at times, but he was never stupid.

"No," Harry whispered. He looked at Lucius. "The vow! You took a vow to help me destroy Voldemort."

"So I did," Lucius said, looking amused. "And the vow is fulfilled. Lord Voldemort and the two Horcruxes you knew about are destroyed, just as I promised."

"Lord Voldemort isn't dead!" Harry cried, as if he could will Lucius to understand with the force of his voice alone. "He's possessing Snape."

"Oh, but we never took a vow to destroy Snape, did we?" Lucius mocked him. "If I remember correctly, I told you to picture Voldemort and his two Horcruxes, exactly as they were. And you so willingly did. The magic took care of the rest. Lord Voldemort, as you knew him, has been destroyed together with his Horcruxes. The prophecy is fulfilled."

"You tricked me!" Harry snarled.

Snape's laughter filled the room. "Of course we did. What did you expect? Really, Harry, after months of sleeping with us you should have known better."

Harry stood up and moved away from them, only to fall down again as his feet failed him.

" _Avada Kedavra_!" Harry shouted and green light sped out of the wand he held in his hand. Voldemort and Lucius ducked and the curse flew harmlessly by, crashing against a wall.

Only then did Voldemort realise that Harry's clumsy fall and his scared retreat had been carefully planned. The boy held in his hand Lord Voldemort's wand, which had been lying on the floor forgotten since Lucius had petrified Harry.

" _Stupefy_!" Lucius shouted back, but Harry jumped aside and the curse did not touch him. Then, to Voldemort's utter surprise, he turned into a snidget and flew past an equally surprised Lucius, who tried uselessly to catch him only to end up with his hand closing on empty air. In the blink of an eye, Harry had disappeared through the doorway.

Voldemort rose to give chase, but Lucius stopped him. "Forget it. He already left the Manor through the window in the corridor. I sensed the wards letting him through. They wouldn't know how to stop so small a bird. It will be impossible to catch him in the garden. By the time we arrive there he'll be long gone."

"The tattoos!" Voldemort reached with his mind towards them, but only silence answered him as he called the snakes back.

"Cunning little thing," Lucius chuckled.

Voldemort was angry, but, like Lucius, he couldn't help feeling a hint of pride. "He holds three pieces of our soul. It shouldn't come as such a surprise."

"And yet it always does," Lucius said. "We could let him wander free for a while."

"It's too risky," Lord Voldemort told him. "Even though the battle tonight was successful and we managed to take over the Ministry and Hogwarts, there are still members of the resistance left. Harry is their hope. He will organise them against us and we cannot afford to act against him with the same ruthlessness we would otherwise use. We need him here, at our side, ruling with us. It'll demoralise the resistance."

"Then you know what we have to do," Lucius said.

They looked at each other for a long while, silently considering their options. In the end Voldemort nodded. Lucius walked to the opposite wall and hissed in Parseltongue. " _Show me Harry Potter's soul_!

The wall transformed into a black door. Lucius scratched his nails across the knob and the door opened for him, showing a black, endless corridor behind. Lucius stepped into it and the door closed. Exactly one minute later the door opened again and Lucius stepped out, holding the moonstone which contained the piece of Harry's soul in his hand.

"Are you ready?" Lucius asked Lord Voldemort.

He nodded; Severus' black, oily hair shadowed his face. Voldemort bared his chest and both of them started to chant.

A small dark point appeared in the middle of Severus' chest. With each word of the chant it grew a bit more. It rippled with magic like a small black hole, swallowing everything that touched it, even the light. Lucius opened his hand and the moonstone floated in the air, carried by the magic. It inched closer to Severus' chest. When it reached it, the black hole stretched around it until the moonstone disappeared in the endless darkness behind it. Slowly the hole started to close, until hours later only the skin of Severus' smooth chest remained.

"It's done." Lucius dried the sweat gathered on his brow. He sounded tired.

"I don't feel any different," Voldemort said.

"Give it time to settle within you. Don't worry. It won't fail."

"I do _not_ worry." Voldemort's words and tone matched those of the original Severus' perfectly.

Voldemort reached out with his soul and felt the connection come alive. He was himself and he was Lucius looking at Severus from across the room, powerful, all-knowing, self-assured. He was a snidget, already miles away, flying even further, using his magic to slide through the chilly wind and move forward. So much pain and loneliness and betrayal. So much guilt.

Voldemort smiled. When he opened his eyes, Lucius was smiling too. It had been so long since he had felt whole for the last time that he had forgotten what it was like.

"It worked," he said.

"Did you doubt it would?"

"The sources we used were of Muggle origin. You know how I felt about those," Voldemort said, shrugging.

"I know how I feel about those still," Lucius countered. "However, we both checked the records. They date back to a time when Muggles and Wizards lived together. It pains me to say this, but Muggles did us a favour in keeping the records alive."

"It was no favour. I haven't forgotten what that knowledge cost us: being forced to go on our knees every morning and every night to pray, like some weak commoner in need of outside help to achieve his goals," Voldemort said. He was very much the Dark Lord then, even though the sneer on his face was pure Severus.

Lucius laughed and the Dark Magic inside of him sang with life, entwining with Voldemort's. Miles away Harry, too, felt among his pain the joy of the Magic calling him back as the Darkness inside him awakened.

They were one and the same. Three different incarnations of one soul. Three different bodies with three different histories and three different minds. Yet still one entity. The perfect Trinity. Dark Magic flowed between them, merging with them, healing the cracks where their soul had been split.

"I didn't know how much I missed feeling whole," Lucius said.

"I know." Voldemort came closer to Lucius. He kissed him, wanting to join their bodies as their soul was joined, to breach the last barrier keeping them away from each other.

After a while they broke apart, panting at the intensity of that single kiss. "What will it be like once Harry is with us?" Voldemort asked.

"Give it time."

Voldemort closed his eyes and reached out, calling the boy to them.

The night wind blew against Voldemort's face, ruffling his feathers as he used the air currents to fly away faster. So much pain. It was a sharp contrast to the happiness of finally having his soul healed. It scared him as being flayed open by Bellatrix's whip never had. He flew faster still, not knowing where he was heading as long as it was away. And yet, he knew that he would never be able to out-fly himself.

"He will come back," Lucius said. His hand brushed against the hollowed cheeks of Severus' face, bringing Voldemort back to their room.

Voldemort shook his head, getting rid of the momentary sense of displacement.

"Yes, he will," he said. He still sensed Harry's longing, and the pull of magic calling him back. "We have eternity to wait."

* * *

Miles away, the whistle of the wind in Harry's ears was like the dark, rich laughter of Voldemort and Lucius. He could feel them, rolling on the bed tangled within each other as they finally became one not only in soul and magic, but also in body.

Harry knew that the further away he flew the sooner he'd reach the point at which, instead of getting away, he would start getting closer.

He flew faster.

 

EL FIN


End file.
